Dust & Grooves. Vinyl Collection Books

Louise Chen

Fiona MacPherson-Amador — Sat, 14 Mar 2026 12:28:32 +0000

Louise Chen

House in the Home

BY Fiona MacPherson-Amador

Louise Chen is an iconic DJ whose incredible hard work has made her a crucial figure in the music scene at an impressively young age. She rose to success in 2012 after organising the renowned Girls Girls Girls club night at Social Club in Paris. Originally thinking it would be a one-off, Louise was thankfully wrong, and the concept developed into a collective celebrating club culture and women in the industry. Her record collection is made up of a spectacular array of house records, not in the least overshadowing her finds of soundtrack, soul, and an array of visual marvels.

Born in Luxembourg, Louise comes from a family well in tune with music and creativity. We spoke in early 2025 during her son’s downtime, and just like his mother, he is showing signs of curiosity in the musical field, of which he has a true insight. Through her record collection and musical objects, Louise is hopeful that her expertise can feed this curiosity: “He won’t have this plastic-fantasy picture-perfect image of what music is. It’s ugly. It’s a mess. It takes up space. It’s dusty. I’m interested in seeing my kid respond to the reality of it.”

Louise pursues an illustrious DJ career, including playing over 100 NTS shows. She continues to be a predominant presence, and particularly for young women in the musical realm, she is a true inspiration. We spoke about how younger generations should approach record collecting, music generating more music, and how having the right people around you nurtures creative confidence.

“Stories of music generating more music, and musicians generating more musicians, are always really beautiful to celebrate.”

—Louise Chen

How do you normally introduce yourself?

I’m Louise Chen. I’m half French, half Taiwanese. I used to be a touring DJ promoter, now I’m a stay-at-home DJ, and a mum. I guess that’s how I would describe myself.

You started making mixtapes with your dad when you were growing up. Did you grow up in a very musical household?

It was quite musical. My mum is the kind of parent who would always put on the radio and listen to the news chat and whatever was on, whereas my dad was an avid record collector. He was a total music nerd; he should have been a DJ. He comes from a family of singers, actors, and creative people. His older sister was a singer and actress who was really famous in Taiwan and Asia. Then his other sister was a TV show producer. I think my dad is a really good singer, and I think he’s always secretly wanted to go into showbiz a bit. But because he was the only boy in the family, he had to do the boring, serious jobs and do finance and banking.

He really loved music, and that’s why he used to send my mum and me cassette tapes, mixtapes in the ’90s when I was a kid. He saw that I was responsive to that and that I really enjoyed it, and I always wanted to show him music that I was into. He got me this sort of ghetto blaster with cassette tapes, CD, FM, and radio, all in one stereo so that I could record my own cassette tapes.

In your selection, you have the E.T. soundtrack, narrated by Michael Jackson. You said it was an important record that resonated with your childhood. Since becoming a mother, is this something that resonates more, or you think might pass down to your own child?

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Oh absolutely. I hope he’ll still be interested in my record collection and not completely bored of my story. The story with the E.T. record is that my dad would commute between Taipei and Europe when I was growing up, and my mum and I would try to go as much as possible as well. So on a trip to Taiwan, I think I must have been two or three years old. I was really ill, and so they had to take me to see a doctor, and I was bedridden for quite a while. The only thing that I could do, really, for my entertainment was to watch cartoons. And so my dad would go to the video rental and rent whatever cartoon they had—I probably watched Snow White 15 times. One day my dad was like, “Okay then, they’ve run out of cartoons. What can I show her?” So he got E.T., knowing that I was a bit young to watch it. The VHS was in English with Chinese subtitles, so it’s really by the power of sounding images that I understood the story and that I fell in love with it.

I watched that movie and just immediately became obsessed and wanted to watch it every day until it was time to leave Taiwan. So my dad went to the video store and begged them to sell him that video, even though it was completely illegal. He went in there all, “My kid’s going back to Europe, I don’t know when I’m going to see her next. She loves this movie so much. Please, please, please, let me buy it.” They let him, and I still have the VHS. I remained obsessed with it through childhood and then, as I grew up, saying the goodbyes with my father at the airport was always really hard. So the goodbye scene in E.T. became a signature reenactment. It was almost easier to use the scripted words than to come up with your own. I just didn’t really have the words for it.

As I grew up, every time I would re-watch E.T., something different would make me realize why I like it so much. But I think the soundtrack was a huge reason as to why I love it. Still to this day, if I hear the first few notes of John Williams’s score, I immediately well up. The scene where they’re on their bikes, I just really love it. I thought, “Actually, Elliott’s story is kind of my own.” Growing up in Luxembourg often felt like growing up in California and suburbia—if you’re not part of the cool kids, you can be a bit of an outsider, an oddball, and feel a bit like an alien. In E.T., Elliott finds it easier to befriend an alien than to befriend his brother’s mates. It sounds ridiculous, but is so relatable when you’re a kid. Whenever I’d find the VHS somewhere, I would just buy it, almost as a reflex—just the collector brain.

“Actually, Elliott’s story is kind of my own.” Growing up in Luxembourg often felt like growing up in California and suburbia—if you’re not part of the cool kids, you can be a bit of an outsider, an oddball, and feel a bit like an alien.”

E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial Narrated by Michael Jackson Produced by Quincy Jones Music by John Williams “E.T. is my favorite movie of all time, and on top of that, when I was a kid, Michael Jackson was the ultimate idol. When Steven Spielberg released E.T. in theaters, Michael Jackson became the King of Pop, recording with Quincy Jones. Around the same time, they also worked on this E.T. audiobook. There was controversy surrounding its release since Michael’s label wanted ‘Thriller’ to come out first. They recalled all the records from the shops and shelved them in the process. Getting my hands on this super rare record with the booklet and poster in mint condition will forever be the find of my life!”

Where did you pick up this copy of the record?

I eventually found the soundtrack in different versions because there’s the picture disc. I knew that this narrated-by-Michael-Jackson version existed, I’d just never seen it. I went to Toronto for a friend’s wedding around 2017, and I was only there for 48 hours. Just before going to the wedding, we were walking in a neighborhood, and I was like, “Oh, I think this is Cosmos, I’d love to stop by.” They used to have one in London, now called Yo-Yo. I walked in and I saw it right there behind the counter. I was like, “Well, that’s it. I need it.”

I went digging a little bit after I saw the E.T. record, so the shopkeeper said, “Oh, you know, you’re picking out some really good rare stuff, rare grooves. What are you after?” It’s funny, because this story is actually tied to one of my Weldon Irvine records. I was like, “Oh, well, you know, I’m looking for Time Capsule by Weldon Irvine, but I’m not keeping my hopes up.” He responded with, “Actually, let me call my boss in the sister shop. You should stop by.” As I dropped in, Jeff Mount, my friend at the counter from New York, was standing there—very serendipitous. It shows you how small the world is. But I think record collectors travel to the same places. We travel in very small circles, so the probability of running into each other is really quite high. Even if you’re in a city for 48 hours, the chances are that you will run into another record collector, or some, if you go to a record shop.

How do you think younger generations should try to get involved with this community?

I think what I really like about records is the object and the artwork—all the extra information and context you get on top of the music. Not only do you find music that you can’t find online, it’s music that you can’t find anywhere else at all. You also discover a lot more about photography or fashion; you can learn how they dressed in ’79, that’s really cool. I find it a very fun way to explore history, and also just find out about your own taste a little bit.

I think there’s something nice about records, because for my generation at least, they were still around when I was a kid, but CDs were replacing them. So to me, records always feel like what my parents were into. And then by the time I got into it, it was peak turntablism era, the early 2000s, so records were used to perform with and not just to listen to. Being able to see how many lives this format has had is very interesting. I just hope the next generation uses all the tools that they have to sharpen their curiosity and not the other way around.

I think what’s amazing is that if you’re 15 years old today, you can find something online or in the shop and then find out more about it online immediately afterwards. They can see that, actually, there are more records. You can check out labels, and then you can find out all this extra information that, back in the early 2000s and ’90s, you had to do research on. Even then, the process of doing research was much slower. You had to meet people who were into the same things as you, you had to read books, subscribe to magazines, and things like that.

I think these are all things that are important, but just the fact that now you can do it at four different speeds and check it online immediately is limiting. If you want more, you can buy a book about it, and then you can watch a documentary about it, and then you listen to the record, and you find a radio show on NTS that’s focused, and you find out there’s more about this producer, or about this songwriter, or about this singer, and then that leads you to other things. The quest is endless. I just hope that people are interested in the quest, essentially.

More material just means more depth, which is nice.

I hope that we move away from having records as an object of status. For example, if I have vinyl at home but then just have, like, Drake and Doja Cat, I feel like you may as well have a Spotify playlist.

“The quest is endless. I just hope that people are interested in the quest, essentially.”

Weldon Irvine – Time Capsule
“This came out in 1973 on Weldon’s own imprint, Nodlew. It’s got all the elements of jazz and soul that would influence a whole generation of rappers and hip-hop producers. It’s a holy grail that always felt unattainable until one day, I walked into Cosmos Records in Toronto, where the shop owner, Aki, showed me a beautiful original copy. I couldn’t buy it then, but to see it and hold it was enough for me that day. I eventually bought a reissue a few years ago while in Japan.”

Let’s talk about your Weldon Irvine Time Capsule, which touches on what you said about the quest. It was a particularly special album in terms of influencing hip-hop. What is it about archiving a record like this that is important for understanding the music that can be traced back to it?

First of all, I think it’s really important with hip-hop and production to be able to place the point of origin for something. Second of all, seeing that from that point there are two outcomes that could have happened from a sample. It could have gone to court, or what happened here: Irvine was like, “Actually, I love this, please use my music.” If anything, he wanted to befriend some of the musicians.

For example, Q-Tip explains in one of his RBMA Fireside Chats interviews that Irvine actually taught him how to play the piano. When Irvine realized what Q-Tip was doing with production and how advanced his ear was, but that he couldn’t play an instrument, Irvine taught him how to play. He gave him more tools and more keys to go further in his musical quest. I think real recognize real, you know, and when Irvine recognized how curious and hungry for more this producer was, he was like, “Well, who am I? I don’t want to gatekeep him. I want to give him everything.” I think that’s one thing that’s very particular about Weldon Irvine, and that then later translated to other producers as well.

George Clinton is another example of an OG who’s always praised Kendrick Lamar. His view is, “I don’t understand what he says, but I can tell that he’s funky. I can recognize that there’s art there, and there’s skill, and there’s craft, and he can sample me all day long.” Stories of music generating more music, and musicians generating more musicians, are always really beautiful to celebrate.

In the case of this particular record, it was self-released on Irvine’s own label. It was an independent imprint which, at the time in the ’70s, was really, really hard to have. Weldon Irvine had a tragic end of life where he ended up pretty much broke and broken by the music industry. I feel like his music that lives on, especially the stuff that he’s released independently, is a way to celebrate his fight for artistic freedom.

Weldon Irvine – The Sisters
“Irvine wrote Young, Gifted, and Black for Nina Simone because he was traveling with her on tour—that’s how it was. Otherwise he would have just kept it for himself, maybe.”

You have more of his records. The Sisters was released around 20 years after Time Capsule. Do you think there’s a prevalent reflection of personal life in the development of someone’s music over so many years? Or is it purely music for music?

Definitely. There are endless encounters and other musicians you meet, and things like that. You know, he wrote “Young, Gifted and Black” for Nina Simone because he was traveling with her on tour—that’s how it was. Otherwise he would have just kept it for himself, maybe. At that time, when you had to have a band to make music, the ideas percolated with other people and with the outside world so much faster than nowadays.

When you’re just in front of your laptop in 2025, you can remain in your myopia a lot more than you could back then, when it was like “but I need a bassline,” and “I needed someone to come and play it.” Even if you knew how to play everything, like Prince, you still had to have a sound engineer to record. There was always exposure to the outside world and what was going on in a worldwide context, or in your city, or even where you were sitting down writing music. It all would have definitely affected your sound.

Are you completing all of Irvine’s records? Are you a completionist in your collection habits in general?

Not really, I’m a bit too lazy for that. To be honest, I think I have most of it, but there are a few that elude me and I’m okay with that. I’m quite sentimental, so as long as I can access the music and I can hear it, I don’t always need to own it because I own a certain moment in time. That’s the beauty of records: they are a recording of a moment in time, and then when you go back to them, you unlock your own moment in time. I think that’s why my relationship to my collection is not completed, because it’s not really a system thing. It’s more documenting that this has been my journey through music, and this has been my life. Through these travels I found this and this and that, or I can remember a day I had when I was really lucky and I found something outside my house. It’s more interesting to me to have someone’s entire discography if there’s a personal connection to my story, rather than a more macro level, where you don’t necessarily connect to all of it.

“Oh, that’s cute.”

Your Guantanamera record. Where did you find it?

I can’t even quite remember. There’s a chance I found it at Superior Elevation. I honestly don’t recall where I found it. I just remember thinking, “Oh, that’s cute.” I think it was in New York because I think I played it at The Lot Radio the week I bought it. It’s a Chinese cover of “Guantanamera,” and I just remember thinking that I didn’t even love the song so much, but the cover had something that I guess reminded me of my childhood. It reminds me of my aunt singing, or the singers that my parents, my aunt, and my uncle would listen to or sing in karaoke. The kind of voice, the timbre, is very unique to Southeast Asia in my mind. So I just thought that this was a cute little cheapie to add to my collection that might be fun one day to just listen back to, or even play for my dad.

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Louise Chen and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

Order Now

I was wondering because it took me a couple of rounds online to find it, and I was like, “Where did this come from?”

It’s funny, because I think someone else in the book, another collector who’s also a writer, also found it. I just remember seeing someone in my feed posting about it and me thinking, “Oh, I have it too.” In the infinite scroll, I don’t want to speak wrongly. I don’t want to say—I don’t want to talk out of my ass [Laughs].

Lovers Rock Volume 2 and Freeki Mutha F*cker (All I Need Is U) are particularly graphic sleeves. We slightly touched on this earlier about the holistic nature of vinyl, so I want to ask—not necessarily how important is the art to collecting, but—how much does your focus extend beyond music itself?

Actually, I care a lot about artwork. I hate to admit it. My collection is made up of quite a few house records, but I think a big barrier to entry for me is that—sorry—all the records sort of look the same. Okay, you’ve got the label, but you don’t have much information, and you don’t see much about the producers. I understand that for DJs at the time, it was important to keep some sort of anonymity and gatekeeping around records, but I think there’s some beauty in finding artwork where the artist or band cared so much that they got outfits specially made.

For example, on a lot of the gospel records, they’re all suited up and coordinated. I think you can find out so much through the artwork, and it gives you a little bit of insight into people’s attitude or personality. I love that! I also love questioning who decided to choose, for example, a super abstract artwork, painting, or photography; I always find it really interesting.

And so for this compilation, Lovers Rock, I remember thinking when I was buying it: “Wow, the music industry was really just run by straight men.” Because someone really has to have thought, “Oh, I know how we’re gonna sell this compilation. Lovers Rock, right? We’ll just use a half-naked woman smiling and dancing.” Like, what?! I think it’s funny because it’s quite the reflection of the times. This would never happen today.

Moody – Freeki Mutha F cker (All I Need is U)
“You can find out so much through artwork, and it gives you insight into the people’s attitude or personality. I love that! I also love questioning who decided to choose, for example, a super abstract artwork, or painting, or photography.”

Moody – Freeki Mutha F cker (All I Need is U.) Inside Sleeve

Johnny Clarke, Delroy Wilson, Doreen Shaffer – Lovers Rock Vol. 2. “Someone really must have thought, ‘Oh, I know how we’re gonna sell this compilation. Lovers Rock, right? We’ll just use a half naked woman smiling and dancing.’ Like, what?! I think it’s funny because it’s quite the reflection of the times.

Shaolin Soul, what a fun compilation! Do you think compilations are an essential part of the act of archiving records?

That’s a really interesting question. I never really thought about it, to be honest. But it’s funny, because I guess when I started buying records I wanted to know more about soul, but I didn’t really know how to. So whenever I found a compilation, and whenever there was a tune I knew I liked, I would just buy it. That way, I could find out about the different artists I didn’t know—they were bound to be kind of in that vein.

Back in the day, if you didn’t have your portable turntable, you couldn’t always listen to the records—you just had to be quick or know what you were buying. And I guess I was a bit shy too; I didn’t know how to ask for more. I knew I liked something, but it felt like I didn’t know enough to ask precise questions. So if I found a compilation that had, say, the Delfonics, I would buy it and then find out about whatever was next to it. And then keep going.

I have quite a few compilations, and it’s funny because they are a reflection of the time. They’re also a reflection of how music was marketed pre-Spotify. I have a compilation of wedding songs, movie compilations, things like that. I think they’re really relevant tools for sharpening your curiosity and for finding more to dig into when you’re exploring a new genre or discovering more artists. They’re like the algorithm before the algorithm, if you know what I mean—it was easier for me to be recommended things in a compilation than by asking anyone.

Various Artists – Shaolin Soul. “This is the ultimate compilation for crate diggers and Wu-Tang Clan fans. It compiles all the soul and funk records RZA sampled to produce his iconic Wu-Tang beats. When I was seventeen, my boyfriend burned this on CD for me, and that’s when I realized my true love extended beyond hip-hop to soul and jazz. As I get older and see it all connected and stemming from jazz, I owe this compilation my thirst and curiosity for tracing back the steps of music history.”

So when did you start to feel confident to ask those specific questions?

I think it was after DJing for a little while and seeing other DJs play records that I knew and liked. For a long time, I didn’t think the records I was playing were very special. Then I heard Sadaha play one at Concrete in Paris, or Tama Sumo play another, and I saw that it was something obscure that other people were Shazamming. That’s when I realized maybe I could just go to a store.

I think it was also about meeting the right people. I remember going to Heartbeat Vinyl in Paris, and Malik was just so nice, so friendly. He asked, “Well, what’s on your wishlist?” And I was like, “I don’t really work like that.” He said he respected that and just asked me what I liked. I said I loved Patrice Rushen, and he just smiled. He said, “That’s an excellent choice.” Then he started digging out different things: “Do you know this? Do you know that?”

His shop is quite small, but it feels very much like you’re in his record listening room—you’re not really in a shop. You can sit down, he’ll offer you sweets or coffee, and you can just chat. That’s what made me feel really comfortable and confident: spending time there, not always buying something, but just going through his knowledge, his DJ brain, and matching that with whatever mood or thing I was into at that point. Calculating ideas without any end goal. I never wandered there questioning if I was going to absolutely find an original pressing of a very rare record to add value to my collection. It was just more, “I really like this and I’ve been looking for that.” It’s that simple.

Lil’ Louis & The World – Club Lonely. “It’s nice to lean into a track for a long time and make a continuous mix. Being able to do that with house music, there’s no joy that matches it.”

Terrence Parker – Love’s Got Me High. “It sounds cliché, but I think there’s a reason why the house classics say that house is a feeling—it is.”

Let’s talk about these Lil’ Louis & The World and Terence Parker records. So very, very cool. What is it about a house record that’s so special, especially to DJ with?

Well, it’s especially good to DJ with because it’s music that was really made to DJ. The long, simple intros let you blend, and the long outros make it easy to beat match. I think it’s nice to lean into a track for a long time, and then create a continuous mix. Being able to do that with house music—there’s no joy that matches it.

It’s a funny feeling, and it sounds really cliché, but I think there’s a reason why the house classics say that house is a feeling—it is. I don’t dance the same way to disco, with high-energy lyrics and horns, as I do to very stripped-down house. So when it comes to mixing, it’s a different kind of pleasure. You’re not necessarily sharing something rare; you’re just sharing the moment. You’re creating a bit of a bubble for yourself and anyone who wants to join—to lean in and escape a little.

What is the particular kind of focus with house music?

I think it’s just a different mindset. When I DJ house, it feels like I enter a different headspace, especially with records. I get very focused on the beat matching. There’s a lot less singing along and a lot more feeling along. I’m constantly thinking, “This is too fast or too slow, this will go well with that, or I want to play this record next,” then quickly finding it and beat matching.

Because the tracks are longer, you have more time to consider what to play next and what contrast to bring. Whereas with shorter songs back to back, you have to move quickly. With records, that can become a bit routine—you know that four or five songs go together, and you just play them in that sequence. You memorize them to beat-match or key-match. With house, you can explore more and be adventurous because you have the time.

Do you enjoy listening to house at home, or is it strictly for dancing and mixing?

Definitely—I love listening to house at home. Sometimes house music helps me think. If I’m working, writing, or doing something that doesn’t require active listening, house—or even techno—keeps me in a focused trance. The continuous beat, whether warm and vibey or cold and precise, lets me settle into a rhythm. There’s something about that focus, and it’s the same in the club. Good house music keeps the crowd together, moving in unison.

“My son won’t have a plastic-fantasy, picture-perfect idea of music. It’s messy. It takes up space. It’s dusty. I want him to respond to the reality of it.”

Any last thoughts?

When I started my collection, I never thought about what value it could have in the future or after I pass. It’s definitely something I’m more conscious of now that I have a son.

Do you think that shareability is what adds value?

I think so. The added value is probably in the fact that it’s a tangible object. He’s already touching the records, trying to go through them, though they’re stacked tightly so his little fingers can’t pull them out. Eventually, he’ll be big enough to understand what we’re listening to and start asking questions.

In a child’s mind, interacting with objects like records and instruments provides a direct entry point to curiosity about music. Even in the playpen the other day, he reached for the cable where my microphone is attached—he was sort of eating it. But handling a microphone at nine months old gives him an early sense of its weight, what it’s attached to, and how it works. My son won’t have a plastic-fantasy, picture-perfect idea of music. It’s messy. It takes up space. It’s dusty. I want him to respond to the reality of it.

So far, he loves pressing the cue button on the CDJ—it flashes—and he also loves spinning the wheel. Eventually, when he’s big enough, I can show him the records and demonstrate scratching: what it does, how it sounds. I can’t wait to see his reactions and hear all the questions he’ll have.

Who would you like to see next on Dust & Grooves?

I would actually love to see Jeff Mao.  I don’t know if he’s on the list, [post-interview note, he is] but he has an amazing record collection. He’s taking me record shopping and pulled out records for me. He’s very discreet about his well of knowledge. He just distills it mostly in the papers he writes and interviews he’s hosted and stuff, but I would like to hear about him directly and I would love to hear about his records.

Louise Chen is a DJ, promoter, and radio host on NTS. You can keep up with her via her instagram.

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Louise Chen and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

Order Now

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Platurn

Sam Cohen — Thu, 05 Feb 2026 22:59:16 +0000

PLATURN

45 Is The Magic Number

BY Sam Cohen

When DJing went digital in the mid-2000s, and vinyl fell out of favor on the dancefloor, Iceland-native DJ Platurn decided to throw a party to celebrate the 45 rpm 7-inch format.

What started as a get-together among vinyl-admiring friends has turned into the 45 Sessions–‘the West Coast’s premiere all-45 RPM outlet.’ Platurn helped restore 45s’ status as an iconic DJing medium because he devoted the better part of his career to being a vinyl DJ.

Anyone can tell his vinyl-attraction relies on the 7-inch; his studio walls are lined with perfectly square slots to fill with Curtom, Stax, and Polydor 45s that his Native Tongues icons pillaged for samples. The various offspring of the Native Tongues camp, particularly De La Soul, were some of the first things Platurn pursued on vinyl.

After hearing De La for the first time at a youth club in Iceland, everything changed for Platurn. They taught him that rap didn’t have to sound like Run DMC or Eric B. & Rakim–rap could be experimental and fun. His admiration for De La led to spinning alongside Prince Paul and Platurn’s seminal So This Is De La Heaven mix. De La Heaven let its tracks play in full and samples breathe, initiating a genre of artist-focused mixes, which many of his counterparts would experiment with.

Platurn, born in Iceland, moved to the Bay Area when he was seven, but he never dropped his connection to the Motherland. After years of digging in Iceland for a particular funk-infused classic rock sound, he released Breaking The Ice, the dopest mix of Icelandic deep cuts. The mix is not only a homage to his homeland, but an exploration of why small island countries like Iceland offer some of the world’s most distinctive sounds.

With a large cup of coffee for breakfast, we sat down with Platurn as he shared his thoughts on the current state of vinyl collecting and got deep about the artists who stayed with him from Stykkishólmur (his hometown in Iceland) to the Bay.

“If you are really nerdy about music and start diving into stuff, you realize that there's a wide array of personalities and interesting things in all genres of music.”

—Platurn

What kind of music were you drawn to growing up?

I don’t think there was a genre I didn’t touch growing up. My dad was a radio disc jock, so he was a huge music fan. He and my mom loved everything: classic rock, reggae, jazz, classical, the whole nine. You would hear everything imaginable in my household.

When I began forming my own opinions about music and art, I gravitated heavily toward Hip-Hop, especially the Native Tongues camp. If you wanted something less aggressive and with a bit more finesse and depth in your rap music, the Native Tongues was the movement at the time. Once I became more of a student of music, I shifted a little bit over time and got into funk, soul, jazz, RnB, and all of that.

My taste came along in and after high school, when I was working, and starting to become a DJ with an actual personality. There are really few genres that I’m like, “No, no, no, no. I don’t mess with that.” If you are really nerdy about music and start diving into stuff, you realize that there’s a wide array of personalities and interesting things in all genres of music.

For those who don’t know, how would you describe the Native Tongues camp, which includes De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, and Queen Latifah, to name a few?

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They were a collective of hip-hop artists and groups who were dramatically different from what was known as traditional and coveted hip-hop at the time. There was a staple and a distinct set of elements that rap was ‘supposed’ to sound like at that time. The Native Tongues were different; they were more experimental. Experimental, in terms of melody, sound beds, and the samples that were being chosen.

What they rapped about, the way they rapped, and their general messaging were far from what people were expecting from rap music at the time. It’s definitely one of those movements that could have gone one way or another.

Journalists and fans of that era loved to label them as rap hippies and call them weird or eccentric, but they were just being unapologetically themselves. I never looked at them like that; I just look at the fact that they weren’t afraid to try some diverse shit.

Your love for the Native Tongues led to the creation of the mix, So This Is De La Heaven (2004). Why the focus on De La Soul, and what can you tell me about compiling the mix?

There was just a particular thing about De La; they were offspring of the whole Native Tongues movement, which I was really attracted to at the time. The early Native Tongues material started when I moved to Southern California, and the sound and samples were so on par with the style I familiarized myself with. My history with the group and genre made choosing De La a natural thing for me to want to do and focus on.

It probably took me a year or two to source all the material you hear on part one. The mix is all pre-digital, too. It was all original records and recorded on a six-track or something like that. I was finding the material while making it, and all the mixing had to be done live.

Sometimes, you put your head into something you are clearly passionate about, and it becomes your world musically, and it ends up being so serious for you. With the second one, I had to uphold that same ethos; I had to be adamant about making sure it was equally as good, if not better, than the first one.

“The youth club I went to in Iceland had a copy of 3 Feet High And Rising, and my cousin was like, ‘Dude, you gotta hear this.’ When De La was first marketing the album, a really big portion of their fan base was ‘east of the East Coast.’”

Jungle Brothers – Straight Out the Jungle & Done by the Forces of Nature
“Anyone who knows me knows how much of a Native Tongues nerd I am. This record laid the blueprint for what became, in my opinion, the greatest hip-hop collective. It stands the test of time, and the fact that it was basically created with a four-track recorder and set of turntables makes it all the more legendary.”

How did it feel when members of De La gave you feedback on the mix?

You make a mix like that for the sheer love and appreciation of the artist and the music. Then you find out that they heard it and that they really liked it. Then, they give you positive feedback, and eventually, you get an opportunity to meet them and share a stage with them. It was one of the most beautiful full-circle moments I’ve had in my music career.

You’ve DJ’d with Prince Paul multiple times. What was that like?

I’m still shocked that it happened, and that I’ve gotten to connect with him a few times. The fact that I talked to somebody I was so fixated on and enamored with was so important to me. He’s one of those guys who’s doing important shit to this day, and I still try to uplift and support his work any way I can. As far as meeting your heroes goes, it’s everything you could want.

The first time you heard De La was actually in Iceland at a youth club. Tell me about that.

This is almost 40 years ago now, but I do distinctly remember that the first listen was at a soccer club in Reykjavik, the capital of Iceland. On the second floor, there was a hangout place for kids with a little DJ setup. My cousin was the first to hip me to ’em.

They had a copy of 3 Feet High And Rising, and my cousin was like, “Dude, you gotta hear this.” We were so young and had grown up on Run DMC and Eric B. & Rakim, so we didn’t know anything that wasn’t relatively mainstream. Hearing it was eye-opening; I could only think how different it sounded from what I knew. It’s funny that I heard them in Iceland first because I didn’t hear the record or see it for sale in California for at least another six months.

How did Iceland receive pressings of the record before California?

In the States, Tommy Boy (De La’s label) was based in New York, and for some random reason, they also had distribution in Iceland (a very small market for hip-hop music back then). Back then, how music spread depended greatly on the distribution of physical formats; this meant that the location of a distribution center would indicate which areas listened to the label’s music.

When De La was first marketing the album, a really, really big portion of their fan base was “east of the East Coast.” It spread throughout Europe and Scandinavia well before reaching California or Asia. When you look at Native Tongues pressings, a lot of the Tribe Called Quest and De La stuff had better distribution in Europe than in the US, at least in the beginning.

De La Soul – Various UK import 12” singles. “I love the iconic imagery and different artwork on these, along with the alternate mixes. I first heard 3 Feet High & Rising at a youth club in Iceland. This was before it made any noise on the West Coast. The UK was always hip to De La Soul, and it showed in these releases. Often imitated, never duplicated.”

“There weren't a lot of super loud and bright colors in hip-hop at that time. Hip-hop had a subdued feel to it with a lot of darker colors. These cats were just like, ‘Dude, you know, we're having fun and the energy is really uplifting and positive.’”

De La has had a resurgence in the past few years, thanks to their music being added to streaming services after years of sampling issues. What are your thoughts on a new generation of people discovering De La?

First and foremost, it’s entirely warranted and so well deserved. They’re probably a top-three group coming from that era of hip-hop, and to be as relevant as they are today is crazy. Their influence is immeasurable. It’s a testament that the lasting power of doing your own thing and being adamant about your art speaks volumes.

They’re not trying to adhere to any particular formula; it’s all their own thing. It says a lot about why they’re still around and why people care about them. It’s not just that the music is amazing; it’s because they made something you want to praise and nurture, it’s them being themselves. We can all take notes from these guys when it comes to art.

They built an entire world with the 3 Feet High And Rising album, and the cover art plays a significant role. What do you love about the art of the album’s singles, like “Me Myself And I” and “Say No Go”?

They’re so colorful, they pop, and it’s kind of leaning on pop art, but it’s still got this hip-hop feel to it–a straightforward kind of hip-hop feel to it. You look, and it’s kind of clear and simple, but it shouts at you. That’s the thing: there weren’t a lot of super loud and bright colors in hip-hop at that time. Hip-hop had a mostly subdued feel to it with a lot of flat colors. These cats were just like, “You know, we’re having fun and the energy is really uplifting and positive.” So, the look and feel of the actual visuals, the colors, and the design have to emulate that.I love that people are still very drawn to that aesthetic, and it’s constantly being reused in so many ways. People love anything that they put their logo on. There’s a reason why they drop merch all the time, because people love that shit. I get it, though; I was a nerdy kid, and the De La guys were like rap nerds to me. I resonated so much with that era and will always return to the Native Tongues era.

“All of the stuff they created had an aesthetic. It’s all being used, mimicked, and flipped.”

“Often imitated, never duplicated.”

You’re a big fan of the Jungle Brothers, another Native Tongues heavy hitter. What can you tell me about their influence on you?

The Jungle Brothers were the OGs in the whole Native Tongues scene; those guys were the first to really dive into what expanded into this wider world of music that nobody was really touching at the time. They were just fearless. On those first couple of records, they weren’t following any rules. I think that’s what I loved about that initial movement: it was all very raw. It was so focused on letting particular samples be–they weren’t manipulating a ton of stuff.

They broke an immense amount of ground in the art of sampling old records. Sometimes they would have as many as a dozen samples in one song. Nobody was digging for what De La, Tribe, and The Jungle Brothers were digging for. It’s so important that they opened up this world to the listeners because it expands your mind as a fan of music and art.

Jungle Brothers – Doin’ Our Own Dang
“I remember rocking this cassingle until it snapped. The cover’s iconography and style of dress were everything for me and my dance crew homies during that era. Especially that Commodores’ break and one of my favorite Posdnous lines, ‘Isn’t it cool when you cut your hand and the blood is red instead of sellout green.’ One of the best posse cuts of all time.”

“Queen Latifah’s got the breath control and everything that you need as far as being a sick ass MC. She was just another dope MC in a sea of incredible creative people. And, she happened to be a woman. There weren't a ton of female MCs out at the time.”

Another name from the Native Tongues era you’re drawn to is Queen Latifah. Why was Latifah so important during that period?

Nobody looked at her like, “Oh, she’s a female MC. She’s a woman who raps.” Everyone was like, “Yo, this MC is equally on par with the dopest cats that are out right now.”

She’s got the breath control and everything that you need as far as being a sick-ass MC. She was just another dope MC in a sea of incredible creative people. And, she happened to be a woman. There weren’t a ton of female MCs out at the time, but none of her contemporaries were saying, “Oh, she’s dope for a girl or whatever.” She got props because she was the dopest, wrote her own shit, and had such an ill voice and pocket.

I used to listen to her tapes over and over. She’s just the queen, and her success was never about her being a female MC. That’s the end of the story. When you look at the most important aspects of an artist in terms of their unique entities, she has so many skills that stand out. The voice, the lyrics, the cadence, and all these things were just so dope. And she still is dope; there’s footage of her getting on stage and doing her thing, even to this day.

“Everyone was just like, ‘Dude, this MC is equally on par with the dopest cats that are out right now.’”

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Platurn and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

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Let’s move to some of your Icelandic records. Your connection to Icelandic music is best found on the Breaking The Ice mixtape (2019), which is all rare Icelandic music. Were you interested in Icelandic music growing up?

The specific sound you hear on Breaking The Ice was formulated a little bit later in my life. My parents always played Icelandic music in my house, but it was on the radio, and pretty straightforward, traditional stuff.

The Breaking The Ice sound is me diving a little deeper into aspects of that music. Most of the music from the years I focused on would be considered classic rock, but there were so many influences. The mix was all about finding groovy shit. I was looking for music with a pocket, a groove, dope baselines, super funky drumming, that kind of thing.

Funk music was not a thing in Iceland at that time. Something in the vein of Earth, Wind & Fire, Parliament–or whatever was considered American funk music–did not exist there. Iceland had rock music, but some of it had a funk edge to it, so that’s the stuff I was going after. It’s like “Dude, they’re making music without even knowing that somebody would be excavating and pillaging it later on for completely different purposes.”

How did you create the energy and atmosphere of the mixtape?

A lot of listening. I wanted the music that DJs would be interested in. When you’ve been doing this for as long as I have, your ears perk up and latch onto a certain kind of thing that you’re looking for. And it’s not the same thing every single time. A lot of it has to do with the driving percussive elements of the piece. That can be anything from how the drummer is playing, how the bass player is playing, or how the guitarist is playing–whichever rhythm instrument is the most prevalent is what attracts me.

Náttúra – Magic Key
“A motherland favorite and a standout on ‘Breaking The Ice’, is an all groove-based Icelandic mix of this. Heavy psych featuring US-born, Icelandic music mainstay Shady Owens on vocals with killer drums and bass throughout. I’d put this in my top 10 for sure. Standout tracks are ‘Could It Be Found’ and ‘A Little Hymn for Love and Peace’.”

“Iceland and small islands in general have a very interesting place in music history. Island nations like Jamaica, Iceland, and Japan have had an insane amount of incredible music output over the years.”

You have a nice collection of early ’80s Icelandic rock compilations. Many of which have silly covers. Please tell me about these wild-looking Icelandic LPs.

I own these comps because of the kitschy aspects spread throughout the covers. There is great music on there, don’t get me wrong, but I enjoy the comical peek into that era of Icelandic music. To be perfectly frank, I didn’t give a shit about the traditional rock sound growing up.

Tell me about some of your favorite covers of these compilations.

The cover for Ein Með Öllu (A 1983 Icelandic new wave comp) is just too funny not to share! One of the more famous culinary things you can experience in Iceland is the hot dog–it’s a huge thing back home. You can get hot dogs anywhere that sells food, and you’ll find them at every gas station. The cover is so hilarious, I almost want to frame it.

Another great cover is for the record Á Stuttbuxum, which literally means “In shorts.” I love the layout here and how he’s got a boom box and is rocking it.

There are a couple of really dope tracks on here. This is a “big hits of Iceland” compilation album, which was normal for countries to make in the ’80s. They’ll compile a handful of Icelandic songs that were either big hits or music the label is trying to push and promote. There are probably a hundred of these collections, and I own a handful of the covers I love.

Various – Ein Með Öllu
“One of the more famous culinary things you can experience in Iceland is the hot dogs–it’s a huge thing back home. The title of the record means ‘One with everything.’ You can literally go to Iceland today and get that exact same thing, that same bread, those same condiments that are on there. They’ve been making the same damn hot dog for probably 50 years.”

Various – Á Stuttbuxum
“The title literally means ‘In shorts.’ I love the layout here and how he’s got a boom box and is rocking it. I’m a big biking guy, so I love the feature of the bike on here. This is basically a “big hits of Iceland” compilation album, which was a pretty normal thing for countries to make in the ‘80s.”

Hljómsveit Magnúsar Kjartanssonar – Samkvæmt Læknisráði
“This cover with a woman listening to music connected to a watermelon with headphones bigger than her ears is wild, too. This probably wasn’t taken in Iceland cause no one had a pool in their backyard like that. It must have been something from the States, but it is just ridiculous.”

So, you were drawn to these “big hits of Iceland” records for the covers and history, not the music?

For the most part, yes. What interests me is how an island country like Iceland, with such a small population, can garner compilations that pull in hundreds of artists spanning multiple decades.

Iceland and small islands in general have a very interesting place in music history. Island nations like Jamaica, Iceland, and Japan have an insane amount of incredible music output over the years. There’s a certain aspect of these cultures that is really adamant about nurturing art and music. People in Iceland are simply living their lives and doing their thing, and because the communities are so small and insular, that ultimately lends itself to incredible output. They say that in Iceland, something like one in eight people are in a band–it’s nuts.

Speaking of artists from tiny islands, tell me about Japanese musician Yoshiyuki Tao and his solo record.

Yoshiyuki worked for Yamaha and made the keyboard he plays on that record. He lived in Iceland while recording the album and created all these dreamy covers of Icelandic music. It was the only thing that he ever put out. It’s just him playing on the keyboard; it’s very spacey with lots of reverb.

The cover is fantastic; it’s brilliant when you think about it. It’s an Icelandic plate sitting on top of snow, with an egg mimicking Japan’s flag—a clever way to incorporate his two influences.

Yoshiyuki Tao – Yoshiyuki Tao Leikur Á Yamaha Rafmagnsorgel (Yoshiyuki Tao plays the Yamaha Electric Organ)
“Not mega rare or expensive, but an odd and elusive record of Mr. Tao doing covers of popular songs and Icelandic traditionals played solely on the Yamaha Electone E5AR organ. Plenty of rhythm section stock throughout with loads of dreamy vibes. ‘The Shadow of Your Smile’ cover is definitely the winner and a track that also made it onto the ‘Breaking The Ice’ mix.”

A wild cover you picked out that isn’t from Iceland is Thor’s “Keep The Dogs Away.” What is happening here??

Wow, Thor! Jesus, dude, he was a bodybuilder, musician, and actor from Vancouver. This cover is hilarious, and the poster insert is completely absurd. This is another kind of joke, one I wanted to share. The record is terrible, but man, the cover is great.

Thor – “Keep The Dogs Away”
“I have the poster hanging in my house, and it’s just completely absurd. It’s a full-on fold-out of him in some ridiculous outfit. It’s so silly, and the record is terrible, like, it’s really bad.”

Tell me about Leory Hutson and your collection of his LPs.

He was someone I got into a bit later in my career. But I knew him from The Impressions. My dad was a big fan of Curtis and always played his albums in the house. I loved him and that sound of the Curtom label, so it was easy to gravitate toward when Leroy put a bunch of his stuff out on Curtom.

Leroy, his lyrics, and his voice are some of the best examples you could ever get out of soul music from that era. I just learned the other day that he was roommates with Donny Hathaway!

“Leroy Hutson has one of the most unique voices and cadences in funk and soul music, and his penmanship is impeccable.”

You have an incredible collection of James Brown and The J.B.’s 45s. What can you tell me about these?

I have a box that’s dedicated solely to James Brown picture covers. These are mostly pressings from Germany, the Netherlands, France, and Italy. Most James 45s you would get in the States were all styrene with no covers. Styrene is basically like the shitty, cheaper ingredient that creates 7-inches–it’s not real vinyl. It was used and invented to promote these singles on a much cheaper level. You can make a million of these things, and the cost per unit is way less than actually making a real vinyl version of it. The collecting community reveres the picture sleeve versions because they’re made out of actual wax versus styrene.

I have tons of James’ music and so much silly paraphernalia of his strewn about my house and in my studio. There’s no contesting his influence; he’ll always be the number one soul brother.

Hank Ballard – “From The Love Side”
“One of the best J.B.’s related joints and recorded so well. The British and European pressings are far superior on the 45 tip. The box this French press is in is filled with nothing but J.B.’s and extended family international picture covers. Collecting them has been an obsession of mine for years. I remember Joe Quixx playing this on the Wake Up Show as an interlude cut because it was so damn heavy.”

The J.B’s – “Use Me”
“When people talk about problematic artists, James is definitely near the top of the list, but if I were to make one exception to remove someone due to their work, it would be James. It’s undeniable, the track record speaks for itself, and his music will live forever. James is the king, man. Funk music, hip-hop, and modern music as a whole wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for James’ influence. Obviously, it’s not just him, but he brought so many musicians and vocalists in that would play a huge role.”

You’re clearly a big believer in the 7-inch; you even started a party solely devoted to spinning 45s. How did the 45 Sessions come to be, and where are they today?

The 45 Sessions were something we kind of did out of necessity. Eric Boss, DJ Enki, and I started this crew in 2010, and now we’ve been doing it for 15 years.

In 2010, there wasn’t a whole lot of interest in vinyl parties, definitely not 45s for sure, because this came a few years after the whole digital DJing thing started. Playing digital became the precedent in our industry, and I won’t talk shit, I play all formats, but it was a moment when we wanted a home to play 45s.

We started in Oakland and did it low-key for the first couple of years, and then it started blowing up. We never had any real desire or drive to make it any bigger than a place for us to get together, have a few drinks, and play these records. At one point, we did it every other week, and then it was monthly, and now our original plan has caught on, and we do a couple of big shows every year.

We’ve had DJs from all over the world come and play with us. Big names but also so many of the homies, and renowned collectors from all over the globe, come and share the stage with us. People come out for the simple reasons; all we’re doing is celebrating a format of music. That’s literally what it is. It has nothing to do with the music because we don’t tell our DJs what to play–we rarely ever have a theme for the Sessions. It’s just about the DJ and whatever the hell it is they want to play.

“The truth is that there are people who will always give a shit about vinyl and that will never change. So many people enter and leave vinyl collecting, but this format is here to stay, and that’s undeniable.”

What would you tell a young collector looking to start collecting 45s?

There are a lot of fun aspects about getting into 45s, but two stick out. The sound quality is the best you can get out of any kind of music because the grooves are well spread out, so the sound isn’t as compressed. The other advantage of 45s is that they’re easy to transport. They’re light, you can travel with them, and they’re easy to bring to sets.

With that in mind, it’s not for everyone. It is an extremely tedious aspect of collecting because 45s were essentially the MP3s of their day. 45s were never supposed to be a thing to collect; it was a cheap format invented to promote music on the radio. Eventually, they became collectible because many titles are sought after due to their scarcity.

What are your thoughts on the current state of vinyl collecting?

I’ve been doing this for so long and have watched trends appear and disappear constantly; this ebb and flow is constantly happening, and people will say, “Oh, it was the biggest year in sales for vinyl!” Then, it will take a dip, and no one will care.

The truth is that there are people who will always give a shit about vinyl, and that will never change. So many people enter and leave vinyl collecting, but this format is here to stay, and that’s undeniable.

The thing I would like to see less of is people falling for the hype and seeking out absurdly priced reissues, likely pressed on six different colorways that all sound like shit. It’s preying on the people who are into collecting (and ultimately flipping) rather than the music.

45s have a problem as well. If there’s one quote to take away, it’s that there’s too much music that gets put on 45s that shouldn’t be. I’m in this game, I’m in the middle of this scene, and there’s way too much being done surrounding 45s. It ruins a lot of aspects of what this is supposed to be about.

What are some of your go-to digging spots in the Bay?

I’ll give you a few, but not all of them–I can’t blow up my spots [laughs]. Groove Merchant in SF is legendary. Rookys is a spot where I’ve spent a lot of time. There’s a newer spot in the Mission called Discodelic, which I really love. And then Amoeba, of course, where I was a buyer for many years. It’s an absolute institution.

Shuggie Otis – “Inspiration Information”
“Some years back, I opened up for Shuggie Otis in San Francisco. It was one of the coolest gigs of my career. An older gentleman at that point, but his chops were still incredible. I brought him this promo after the show, and he was really touched. My wife even walked down the aisle to ‘Sweet Thang’. Shuggie’s a Bay Area legend, while his father, Johnny Otis, hails from where I live. I’ll cherish this 7-inch forever.”

What’s your comfort record, the one that gets you through the best and worst of times?

There’s no way I can pick just one. I’m going to give you three that I really enjoy from beginning to end, and that are big parts of my music personality over the years. Portishead – Dummy. Funkadelic – Maggot Brain. And De La Soul – De La Soul Is Dead.

Who would you like to see next on Dust & Grooves?

There’s a handful of folks, but shit, I would probably go directly to my crew and say Eric Boss. He’s a DJ, collector, vocalist, and musician. He’s part of the 45 Sessions and one of my best friends. He lives part-time in the US and the UK, and he’s a fantastic human, has insane records, and knows how to play them very, very well.

Where there are De La Soul 45s, there is DJ Platurn. He is the founder of the 45 Sessions, a member of the Oakland Faders, and has compiled and produced his mixtapes, Breaking the Ice and So This Is De La Heaven.

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Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

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Five Records: A Music Exploration Series with The Gaslamp Killer

Eilon — Wed, 28 Jan 2026 02:44:56 +0000

Dust & Grooves and Only The Wild Ones Present:

Five Records — A Music Exploration Series with The Gaslamp Killer

Over four evenings, The Gaslamp Killer invites us into his record collection and his memory — tracing connections between genres, eras, and the sounds that shaped him. From Italian soundtracks to British library music, and psych rock to trip-hop that inform his work as both a recording artist and archivist, each night unfolds as a journey through sound, story, and history.

Each session unfolds in three parts: a warm-up record played in full, a guided exploration of five records and their stories, and a closing DJ set by GLK that ties it all together.

The Evening:

Intro to Genre — A guided look at the roots, cultural context, and key figures.

Five Records — A deep listen to five defining albums and their impact on GLK’s sound.

Behind the Beat — How these records have been sampled, flipped, and reimagined.

Interpolation — GLK reinterprets these sounds live, connecting past to present.

Welcome to the New Generation — A spotlight on a contemporary artist carrying the lineage forward.

From dust to discovery—welcome to Five Records — A Music Exploration Series.

Vol. 1: Library Music & Soundtracks

The series opens with a deep dive into the world of library music and film scores — those heavy Italian, French, and British grooves composed for TV and films that didn’t yet exist.

The Five Records evening moves from history to reinterpretation, exploring how these sonic artifacts continue to influence modern music.

The Evening:

Intro to Genre — A guided look at the roots, cultural context, and key figures.

Five Records — A deep listen to five defining albums and their impact on GLK’s sound.

Behind the Beat — How these records have been sampled, flipped, and reimagined.

Interpolation — GLK reinterprets these sounds live, connecting past to present.

Welcome to the New Generation — A spotlight on a contemporary artist carrying the lineage forward.

Location and Time:

Only The Wild Ones / Force of Nature
1031 Abbot Kinney Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90291

Sunday, November 23, 2025

5:30-9 PM PST

We also made two playlists of Library Music & Soundtracks, to give a sense of that deep groove energy of the genre and a preview of what this evening will be like.

Vol. 2: Eastern Grooves — Turkish, Arabic, and International Beats

For our second volume, The Gaslamp Killer turns his focus eastward into the Turkish, Arabic and international sounds at the core of his musical DNA. This volume reflects his Syrian, Turkish and Moroccan heritage and how those traditions continue to shape global music.

GLK guides the evening through key records from Les Mogol, Zafer Dilek, Ananda Shankar, Elias Rahbani, Gabor Szabo, and Sven Wunder who expanded the exchange between Eastern and Western sound worlds.

The session will trace the long line of Western musicians absorbing and reinterpreting Eastern modalities. The Beatles and their early encounters with the sitar. John Mahavishnu McLaughlin with his jazz fusion. Gabor Szabo’s modal improvisations, and the psych leaning grooves of contemporary artists such as Dungen, Khruangbin and Sven Wunder. Together, they show how global sounds evolve through new hands and eras.

Vol. 2 of Five Records becomes an exploration of lineage, technique and translation, an invitation into the global currents that shaped GLK’s ear and continues to inform contemporary beat making.

Location and Time:

Only The Wild Ones / Force of Nature
1031 Abbot Kinney Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90291

Sunday, December 21, 2025

5:00-9 PM PST

Check out our preview playlist of Eastern Grooves.

Vol. 3: Psych & Prog Rock

In Vol. 3, The Gaslamp Killer turns his focus to psych and progressive rock, examining why these records remain essential tools for sampling, looping, and sonic reconstruction.

This session treats European and experimental psych rock not as nostalgia, but as raw material. Extended arrangements, heavy drums, distorted low end, and longform improvisation produced recordings built to stretch, repeat, and break apart. These qualities made psych and prog foundational to hip hop, electronic music, and contemporary production.

GLK guides the evening through key recordings including Les Lutins en Orbite from France, I.D. Company from Germany, Can’s Tago Mago, and Spleen’s The Sound of Feeling. Together, they capture a moment when rock embraced repetition, trance, and studio experimentation, laying the groundwork for generations of beat makers.

The session moves forward through The Heliocentrics’ Legna, connecting early psych experimentation to a contemporary lineage rooted in looping, reinterpretation, and live recomposition.

Location and Time:

Only The Wild Ones / Force of Nature
1031 Abbot Kinney Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90291

Sunday, January 25, 2026

5:30-8:30 PM PST

Evening schedule:

4:00 PM — Doors open. Music curated by Dust & Grooves and GLK.

5:30 PM — One record played in full. The Gaslamp Killer drops the needle.

6:30 PM — Listening session begins.

7:30 PM — DJ set by GLK.

Check out our preview playlist of Vol.3 Psych & Prog Rock.

Photos by Jake Rich

Vol. 4: Trip-Hop

Vol. 4, the concluding installment of Five Records, The Gaslamp Killer turns toward trip hop—a sound born from sampling culture but defined by atmosphere and a shift toward live musicianship layered over loops.

Emerging in the 1990s from Bristol, UK, and a wider global underground, trip hop slowed hip hop’s pulse and blurred boundaries between beatmaking, jazz, dub, soul, and cinematic composition. It marked a turning point: producers began moving away from purely sample-based construction toward hybrid approaches—playing live instruments through loops, not just on top of them.

Through five essential records, GLK traces how mood, space, and texture became compositional tools—and how this evolution reshaped electronic music, film scoring, and modern production.

The session explores landmark recordings including Dummy by Portishead, Mezzanine by Massive Attack, Mieso by DJ Krush, Simple Things by Zero 7, and Psyence Fiction by UNKLE—records that expanded the emotional and sonic range of beat-driven music.

Five Records is not a lecture—it’s deep guided listening, shared in the room.

Check out our preview playlist of Vol.4 Trip Hop

The post Five Records: A Music Exploration Series with The Gaslamp Killer appeared first on Dust & Grooves. Vinyl Collection Books.

Kevin Cole

Dan Epstein — Fri, 02 Jan 2026 04:55:56 +0000

KEVIN COLE

A Relentless Quest

BY DAN EPSTEIN

“The magic of radio and the magic of music combined was always very powerful for me,” says Kevin Cole, who has been deeply involved in both over the last six decades, first as a fan and musician, and then as a record store clerk and radio and club DJ. Since 1999, Cole has been a fixture on Seattle’s KEXP, where he served as Director of Programming/Chief Content Officer for 18 years, as well as one of the station’s best-loved disc jockeys.

But before moving to the Jet City in the late-’90s, Cole was a prominent figure on the Twin Cities music scene. On just about any night from the late seventies up until the early nineties, you could find him in the DJ booth at the legendary Minneapolis club First Avenue, spinning everything from punk to funk to house music.

Unsurprisingly, Cole has amassed a sizable and extremely varied vinyl collection over the years. While he admits to being something of a completist when it comes to certain artists, Cole’s digging is generally motivated by the desire to continually expand his musical universe.

“Occasionally my record collecting impulses will be like, ‘Okay, this is a meaningful record to me,’” he explains. “Like, I really like Tommy Bolin as a guitar player, so I wanted to find a promo copy of Spectrum, the Billy Cobham record that he plays on. I have two or three standard versions of it, but it was like, ‘I need a promo of that, and I need a promo of his solo album Teaser.’ So I’ll go deep on certain things that mean a lot to me.

But mostly, my collecting is driven by an obsession to find great new music I love, that I can then share with others. And I feel fortunate that I’ve been able to do that through radio, which is a magical medium; the journey that you can put together, the narrative you can create through sequencing and mixing, is something that never gets old to me. There’s always new music, and there’s always a new way to share new music in the context of the music that inspired it. As Afrika Bambaataa said, ‘I’m always looking for the perfect beat—and the perfect mix, and the perfect segue, and the perfect show.’ It’s an ongoing, super-fun thing.”

“There's always new music, and there's always a new way to share new music in the context of the music that inspired it. As Afrika Bambaataa said, I’m always looking for the perfect beat—and the perfect mix, and the perfect segue, and the perfect show.”

—Kevin Cole

When did music really start making an impression on you?

Man, for me, it was back as early as I can remember. I just somehow gravitated to it; it made me feel good. I loved radio—and for me at my age, in the ‘60s, it was a really great time, obviously, for music and for radio. It was super exciting, and I just kind of gravitated towards things related to that. I was in some garage rock bands, and when I was in sixth grade and seventh grade I started a lighting company to light bands playing at the Teen Center; you know, just to get involved and be around it.

Do you remember your first record?

Yeah, it was The Cyrkle, Red Rubber Ball, which I still really love. And then I had a pretty good streak in 1966-67, because I got the Dylan records Freewheelin’ and The Times They Are A-Changin’—those had come out earlier—Blonde On Blonde and Highway 61 Revisited, along with The Who Sell Out and a bunch of Kinks records. One of my all-time faves, still to this day: the Jimi Hendrix record Axis: Bold As Love. I’d sit in my bedroom and just look at that Hendrix cover forever.

You DJed at the legendary Minneapolis club First Avenue at a time when the Twin Cities music scene was really coming into its own. What was that experience like?

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I started at First Ave. around 1978, when it was still called Uncle Sam’s; it then changed to Sam’s, and then First Avenue. I was there for 14 years, and it became my musical outlet because it was a very open palette for curation and programming. The Friday and Saturday dance nights were kind of the bread and butter, but it was always an interesting, eclectic mix of music. I think part of the reason the club had such incredible longevity is it didn’t tie itself to any given trend. But it was crazy; we’d play like, 20 minutes of dance rock, and then 20 minutes of disco, and then 20 minutes of funk; it was all over the place, but that was pretty much in alignment with my musical interests. The club also did shows three or four nights a week. Everybody played there: the Ramones, Prince, Defunkt, U2, REM. The first time REM played there, I mixed their sound. And then the club opened this tiny room called the Seventh Street Entry; that was a 200-capacity room, and that’s where Hüsker Dü and The Replacements would play, and all these new bands.

For me, it was amazing, because there was always something going on. Initially, there were two resident DJs, Roy Freedom and myself, then PD Spinlove, and the main room was open every night of the week, and the Entry was open every night except Sundays. So Roy and I would alternate between the two rooms, which meant we each had one day and night off every two weeks [laughs]. But it was so much fun! Like, one night Hüsker Dü would be playing in the Entry, and I’d be helping Terry Katzman do the sound, and then DJing; and then the next night, I’d be DJing in the main room with 1500 people, trying to play an eclectic mix of music that people could dance to and would love, but at the same time trying to work in new music that they didn’t know. It totally fed into my musical obsession and my workaholism and FOMO. Seriously, you never knew what was going to happen there, and we were booking a lot of bands that were making their first appearance in the Twin Cities. So it was a lot of rich new experiences that you didn’t want to miss.

The Replacements – “I’m in Trouble / If Only You Were Lonely.” “The very first Replacements single, released August 7, 1981, on the heroic, independent, Minneapolis-based Twin/Tone Records. Greatness right out of the gate! The A-side is classic Replacements ramshackle punk rock. The B-side, the country-tinged folk song ‘If Only You Were Lonely,’ showcased a different, more vulnerable and, at the same time, humorous side of frontman Paul Westerberg—the brilliant, sensitive side.”

Donny Benét – The Don. “‘WTF. What is this?’ was my first thought when I stumbled upon Donny Benét doing a solo in-store at Balades Sonores record store in Paris. I had never heard of him and was dumbfounded. Is this karaoke? Performance art? A flashback to ‘80s Miami Vice? Is he real? Oh, Donny’s real alright, and the dude is a frickin’ genius. I’ve had the honor of hosting a couple of KEXP live sessions with The Don that were phenomenal. He’s a wicked bass player, and the YouTube comments are pure gold. ‘Donny Benét is the 21st-century music industry’s Viagra overdose.’ Legend.”

And you were also working at a record store at the same time?

Yeah, at least from about ’78 to ’82; it was called Hot Licks. It was part of a very small ma and pa chain; we were downtown a block away from the First Avenue club, and mostly only sold funk or punk records—and by punk, I mean new wave, indie, etc. We didn’t really carry too many straight-up mainstream records; that wasn’t the clientele. I was kind of an anglophile, so we’d bring in a lot of imported 12-inches by Duran Duran, ABC, and things like that.

“Some of my favorite records of all time are the ones that I didn't like right away.”

You’re a big Joy Division collector. When did you first get into that band?

Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, because Joy Division are now my favorite band of all time. But when Unknown Pleasures, the first Joy Division album record, came out, I’d heard so much about it in advance; and then when it finally showed up at my store, I was disappointed on first listen—I thought it was kind of muffled, and that it kind of sounded like The Doors. But some of my favorite records of all time are the ones that I didn’t like right away. And that one took some work; but within like four months, maybe, I was totally converted.

Let’s talk about Licht Und Blindheit, the limited-edition Joy Division 7-inch that you have.

Yeah, that came out on that French art project label, Sordide Sentimental. They did a handful of records that were somewhat experimental and just beautifully packaged. And that was the first release of both “Atmosphere” and “Dead Souls,” which are two incredible, amazing songs. It was a super-limited package. I got it a couple of years after it was released—‘82-ish, probably—when I moved to England for a short period of time; and at that point, it was the most I’d ever spent on a record. You just never saw it in the States; we’d tried ordering it at the store, and we couldn’t get it. My record collecting is sort of interesting, in that I’m more driven by this quest to hear new music and then be able to share it with others. But there are a few bands that I’m more of a completist on, where it’s like, “Okay, Joy Division, I’ll spend 100 bucks on this single.” Which, at that time, was an insane amount of money for me; it was probably five times more than I’d ever spent on a record. The same with the An Ideal For Living EP; I found that on the same trip.

Joy Division – “Licht Und Blindheit”.

Joy Division – “Licht Und Blindheit.” “Two of Joy Division’s best songs, ‘Atmosphere’ and ‘Dead Souls,’ were originally released as a very limited, awe-inspiring package from the French label Sordide Sentimental. Both songs are stunning, as is the packaging. I bought this in England in the early 1980s and, at the time, one hundred dollars was the most I had ever spent on a record.”

You’ve said that you feel conflicted about owning An Ideal For Living, because of the Holocaust imagery they used on the packaging.

Yeah, . It’s horrible imagery. If they were actually promoting that kind of perspective and attitude, I would not own it. But even so, I’m conflicted. An Ideal for Living was the band’s first release, and about a year later it was released as a 12” single with a different cover. I keep the original in storage, and when I listen to it, or play it, use one of the later reissues.

Joy Division – An Ideal for Living EP. “Joy Division’s controversial debut four-song EP was independently released on their own Enigma label. A remarkable band whose entire output from 1978 to 1980 was perfect. I picked this up while in England in the early ‘80s. I’m very conflicted about owning this single. Joy Division is one of my all-time favorite bands; I love them but hate the imagery on this single.”

Joy Division – An Ideal for Living EP.

How about Hüsker Dü? I know you have their debut single, but are you as much of a completist about the rest of their catalog?

I am. That era for me was really important, because it was just kind of a pivotal time when I discovered a lot of amazing music, and the Twin Cities scene that was emerging was something I got to experience and be a part of. The Hüsker Dü record “Statues,” they probably brought in on consignment. And I remember the first REM single—Jefferson Holt brought a box in on consignment. We’d read about the band in New York Rocker, but we hadn’t ever heard ‘em, you know? So they played in The Entry, and Jefferson came into the store that day, and he’s like, “Hey, I manage REM. Do you know them?” I remember we took a box on consignment; that was kind of the model. But for me, that era was really transformative. Hüsker Dü and The Replacements, I guess I’m a completist for both of them. On Record Store Day, there’s a new Replacements live record every couple of years. I buy them all, and they’ve all been really good.

Hüsker Dü – “Statues/Amusement.” The debut single from the groundbreaking Minnesota punk trio. I was working as a DJ and soundman at First Avenue/7th Street Entry—the smaller venue attached to First Avenue in Minneapolis—in the early 1980s, and I had the opportunity to experience and work with bands in their early days as they were figuring out their sound. Hüsker Dü was one of the best. This single still has the one-dollar price tag on the plastic sleeve from the record store I worked at!

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Kevin Cole and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

Order Now

“I became what I considered at the time to be the world's biggest Prince collector.”

Your autographed “Irresistible Bitch” acetate has to be one of the most collectible Prince items of all time. Can you tell us the full story behind that?

Prince had a great relationship with Sam’s/First Avenue. In March 1981—we were still Sam’s at the time—we booked Prince, right after his album Dirty Mind had come out. We had like 1500 people there; it was the first time I’d seen him, and it was as good as any show I’d ever been to, and still is, but it was also a new artist I’d never seen before, which made it even more mindblowing. Because I was a DJ at the club, I could go anywhere, so I just ran down and popped into the dressing room as soon as the show was over. I’m right in Prince’s face, going, “Oh my god, that was amazing!” He was so quiet and introverted; he was actually sitting back in a chair, and I was straddling him, basically; I must have freaked the shit out of him [laughs].

Prince – “Irresistible Bitch” acetate. “Prince tapped me on the shoulder one night while I was DJing at First Avenue (music venue in Minneapolis, MN). He was holding an acetate of a brand-new song and asked if I’d play it. I tried to keep my cool, and later, after the night was over, Prince asked me what I thought of it, then gave me the acetate!”

That’s what started it for me—I became what I considered at the time to be the world’s biggest Prince collector. That show ended up starting this incredible relationship where he’d play at the club a couple times a year. Like, every time he went on tour, he’d usually do a kind of a run-through of the show at the club; then, when the tour ended, he’d just do a full-on party blowout. He’d come down to the club a lot, and for some reason, he really liked me, so I got to DJ a lot of Prince’s private parties up until around Under the Cherry Moon. And sometimes he’d come down and he’d test out new material. So one night, I’m just DJing up in the booth, and I feel somebody tap me on the shoulder. I turn around. It’s Prince. He’s holding an acetate of “Irresistible Bitch,” and he’s like, in his very quiet voice, “Will you play my record?”

The DJ booth at First Ave. was up on the mezzanine, and there was kind of a balcony around the club. Prince had his own little booth up there, and I could see him from where I was DJing. I waited an hour and a half until the moment was right, and dropped his record. Acetates are really heavy, and you can’t really slip-cue them super easy. I remember the needle was jumping, and I was kind of shaky too, but I managed to hit the mix just right, I saw his head snap back, and he immediately ran down to the middle of the dance floor and danced to his song. And when it was over, he immediately went back upstairs. I was like, “Wow, that was kind of weird, and even sort of arrogant.”

But then when I would DJ parties for him, he’d go through my records—like, he’d hip-check me out of the way and pull some records from my box, and he’d be like, “Play these.” And they were always his records or something he had worked on, like the Time or Vanity Six. Or it would be Parliament-Funkadelic or James Brown; he would be like, “Work these into the mix at some point.” But what I realized was, it wasn’t an ego thing; Prince actually was working. He wanted to hear how his music sounded on a big system in the club. He was also listening to how the mix went with the sound of what came next—how the record sounded in context with the other records. He was always thinking about that stuff.

So that particular night, the club cleared and he was still there with his bodyguard. I was like, “Well, I don’t know if he wants his acetate back or not,” so I went over to give it back to him. He was like, “What’d you think?” We had a short little conversation that was really nice, and then there was sort of a weird, awkward pause for five seconds. I was just like, “Hey, will you sign this for me?” I thought he could either reach out and take the record back or sign it. He signed it.

“Almost all my records have some kind of story or memory for me, and I think that's probably the case for most people. It might be just a memory related to listening to it; it might be where you found it and bought it; or it might be something that happened later.”

That’s a priceless record for me. Almost all my records have some kind of story or memory for me, and I think that’s probably the case for most people. It might be just a memory related to listening to it; it might be where you found it and bought it; or it might be something that happened later. For me, some of them are playing something on KEXP and getting an amazing response. But that one is very personal.

Is it even playable at this point?

Probably not. When you take it out of the sleeve, you can see that the petroleum has kind of leaked through the inner sleeve, so there’s a golden ring around it; it feels different and smells different. I played it that night and then I taped it, and I have never played it since.

Is there a story behind your signed copy of Iggy’s Lust for Life?

That was just one of those First Ave. experiences. There wasn’t any crazy story behind it, other than that we were able to hang out after his show and have a really nice talk. That would have been in ’87 or ’88; I don’t think he was really doing any partying right then, and it was just a really nice conversation about music that didn’t feel like a forced meet-and-greet kind of thing. I have a lot of those kinds of records from that amazing period at First Ave.; like, I have a Johnny Thunders record that he wrote something really personal on, and signed it with his real name instead of Johnny Thunders, and that means a lot to me. It wouldn’t mean anything to anybody else. But, you know, I think part of the collecting for me is just the experiences and the stories behind records. It’s not collecting to collect.

Iggy Pop – Lust for Life. “Iggy Pop’s second solo release and second collaboration with David Bowie. In addition to being an amazing record, this signed copy holds dear sentimental value, as Iggy signed it ‘Kevin, I had fun’ after he played a gig I had the honor of DJing for at First Avenue.”

Kind of like with your NNB and Red House singles, which are artifacts from an era that you had the great fortune to be present for. I mean, if you weren’t in the Midwest back then, you’ve probably never even heard of NNB to this day.

Any opportunity I have to champion Mark Freeman and NNB and Red House I take because I think he’s like the unsung hero of the Twin Cities punk scene, or one of them. Back in 1977-78, NNB would play on a regular basis at the Longhorn. They were like a Velvet Underground-inspired group that had a very kind of angular, dark sound, very Television-y; but they might not have even known who Television was at first; our scene and the New York scene kind of developed simultaneously. They did one seven-inch single, and it’s amazing. Then they had two songs on Big Hits of Mid-America Volume Three. The band moved to New York in 1980, and I think they maybe struggled and didn’t happen, so Mark Freeman started another band, Red House. And one single, two songs—that’s the whole output for that band. And in my opinion, every one of those songs is killer; but like you say, if you weren’t there, you wouldn’t know who they were. I don’t think any of them are on any streaming platforms, which is kind of nice and refreshing in a way. However, if you want to hear those songs, somebody has put them up on YouTube.

"Mark Freeman is one of the unsung heroes of the late-1970s and early-1980s Minnesota music scene."

I recently went to listen to them on YouTube, and one of the comments on one of the songs was, “Kevin Cole sent me here.”

Oh, my God! I love that, that is amazing. Again, collecting for me is all about just a relentless quest to find new music, to hear new music—which doesn’t mean new new necessarily, just stuff I’ve never heard before—and then be able to share it with music lovers who are as passionate about music as I am. I didn’t know about that comment, but that’s my mission, and that’s what drives my collecting. You know, I buy a lot of records every week, but it’s not about, “Oh, this is collectible,” or “This is worth more than what I’m seeing it for.” It’s about like, “Oh, I’ve heard about this!” Or “I would prefer to listen to this on vinyl.”

So vinyl is still your preferred listening format?

It is for any record that I really love. On my show or sometimes in prepping for it, I might use digital files for the convenience of it. But if I love a record, it’s like, “Oh, I’ll go get the vinyl!”

Fischersund – “No. 101.” “Fischersund is a perfumery and arts collective founded by Sigur Rós frontman Jónsi and his sisters Lilja and Ingibjörg Birgisdóttir. Located in a beautiful black house in downtown Reykjavík, Iceland, Fischersund is a store, gallery, and performance space that will cast a spell on you. In addition to one-of-a-kind scents, there are one-of-a-kind sounds, with extremely limited 7-inch singles released to accompany the perfumes. Arty, experimental, restorative.”

We haven’t talked yet about your white label promo of Television’s Marquee Moon. Do you remember the first time you heard that record?

I would have heard that when it came out in 1977, and I loved it immediately. But what’s amazing for me with that record is every single time I listen to it, I still hear something new; it has never failed to be just an absolutely fulfilling listening experience. The guitar playing, the guitar interplay—the whole band is very much like a jazz band—and lyrically, too. It’s a remarkable record. It’s also, I think, a really cool testament to Tom Verlaine’s vision, because Brian Eno had originally produced demos with Television a couple of years prior, and Tom Verlaine didn’t feel like it captured the right vibe. Imagine being a new and emerging artist that Elektra Records is interested in, and you turn down the recordings that Brian Eno did for you! To have that kind of strength and vision to know that there was a different vibe he wanted, it blows me away.

Television – Marquee Moon. “One of my favorite albums of all time. 47 years after its release, I still hear something new each time I listen to it. Something that moves me emotionally. For years, pre-streaming, I would buy this record every time I would see a used copy and give it to someone I thought would like it.”

A couple years ago, I was like, “This is one of my favorite albums of all time. I want to find a white label promo.” I mentioned that I didn’t have one to a friend of mine, Brad Tilbe, who has an online record store in Seattle called Nellis Records. I told him that it was one of my holy grail records, and like two days later, he had a promo copy of it waiting for me. That was amazing. And then I wanted to get a radio promo—like a white label promo, but the label’s a little different, and it’s got the timing strip on the bottom of the cover. So I found one of those, as well!

Who would you like to see next on Dust & Grooves?

You’ve already featured fellow KEXP DJ Supreme La Rock, whose Sunday Soul show blows me away weekly with rare old-school soul and funk jams. A deeper dive into artist and DJ Nabihah Iqbal’s record collection, featured in Dust & Grooves Vol.2 would be cool.

I would love to see a Dust & Grooves feature with Björk. She is such an amazing and wildly eclectic musician who has been DJing more lately including legendary wacked out sets at Smekkleysa Records in Reykjavik. I would love to know what’s in her collection, and which records she holds near and dear. The same with Lenny Kaye, curator of the “Nuggets” compilations, author of Lightning Striking: Ten Transformative Moments in Rock and Roll, and Patti Smith collaborator and guitarist. While Lenny is known to be an avid record collector, I haven’t seen a deep dive into his personal collection. I don’t know if Istanbul-based musician and artist Gaye Su Akyol is a vinyl collector, but her rebellious mix of traditional Anatolian music, psychedelic rock, surf, and garage rock is fascinating. I’d love to know about her inspirations and what’s in her collection. Finally, I’d love to see a feature on Edward B. Gieda III. He is a Philly-based musician/DJ who happens to also be sober, vegan, and a hardcore runner. I find his Instagram posts reflecting on music, running, and spirituality incredibly inspiring and would love a deeper dive with him on the intersection of music, spirituality, running, and record collecting!

Kevin Cole is the longtime DJ and member of the programming team at KEXP, the influential Seattle–based public radio station known for championing new and diverse sounds. With deep roots in the city’s music community and an encyclopedic knowledge of vinyl, Kevin has guided KEXP’s music programming for years, helping break emerging artists and curate playlists that reach listeners around the world.

KEXP

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Kevin Cole and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

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Ro Wyldeflower Contreras

Nate LeBlanc — Sun, 07 Dec 2025 00:12:11 +0000

RO 'WYLDEFLOWER' CONTRERAS

Lovely to Possess. Cooler to Play

BY NATE LEBLANC

Rocio Contreras, known as Wyldeflower on flyers and the radio and Ro to her friends, is a deeply connected Los Angeles–based multi-hyphenate creative, record collector, DJ, and radio host who lives her life as a kind of professional appreciator and vibe curator, piecing together creative endeavors and always seeking new sounds. She has a colorful sense of style, evidenced by her prominent geometric eyeglass frames, and seems to move easily between the various creative communities she calls home.

Contreras refers to herself as an “artist advocate” and uses her plentiful gigs, events, and platforms to spread the good word about the wide range of musicians that she supports. As the child of a musical and entrepreneurial family, she has deep roots in Los Angeles and has worked her way up from checking IDs and sprucing up green rooms in a way that made artists feel welcome at venues to hosting performances before thousands of rapt fans at the iconic Hollywood Bowl. Wyldeflower is a fixture in the deep and diverse L.A. music scene, and here she shares a bit about her history, her approach to planning out her DJ sets, and of course, her record collection, which includes some original pressings of hard-to-find Brazilian records.

“Alice [Coltrane] was with me when I first started collecting vinyl. I started in the jazz world first. It felt like a good place to begin to dig deep and do research, to learn, and to expand my knowledge.”

—Ro ‘Wildeflower’ Contreras

Ro, welcome to Dust & Grooves. Eilon photographed you with multiple Alice Coltrane records. What about her as a musician or a person resonates with you so heavily?

I didn’t intend to pick two Alice Coltrane records, but the heart knows what it resonates with. I feel like I gravitated toward Alice because her music brings balance to the continual chaos this life serves us.

Journey in Satchidananda provides a sort of grounding energy. It may be a trigger or remembrance for me because of the actions that were paired with Alice’s music when I first heard it. Playing Journey first in my live sets became a ritual for a few years—a recalibration, sonic sage for the spirit. A record like that pulled you in with the very first deep note. It grounded you.

In that era, in the early 2000s, when I was discovering yoga, cannabis as a medicine, and meditation, Alice’s music weaved in and out of those spaces.

“Alice was sort of an underdog. She felt like a best-kept secret, for the heads.”

“You know you’re about to dive in deep when you buy an album off a record store’s wall.”

Open gatefold of World Galaxy

Let’s get into a little bit of your personal history. How did you first start getting into music?

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Music has always been stitched into my life through my dad. He lived inside the industry in a thousand different ways — singing mariachi on stage, working production, tour managing, artist managing — just forever moving, forever building. He was one of those rare souls with a hundred hustles: running a video store in the early ’90s, a taco truck, then a restaurant — always chasing a vision, even when I couldn’t yet see the thread connecting it all. Now I realize the through line was never a specific job — it was the act of manifesting a dream into reality.

Because of that, music was never something I “found” — it was just there, already breathing in the background of my life. I was literally baptized on a soundstage at the Pico Rivera Sports Arena, between sets of a show by Flor Silvestre and Antonio Aguilar Jr. My dad pulled out his priest homeboy and made it official right then and there — a holy moment tucked inside a working stage. Looking back, it feels symbolic: my first blessing happened under stage lights, surrounded by music before I even knew what any of it meant.

You chose a Parliament record as one of your selections. Even though they’re not from L.A., their music has come to be closely identified with your hometown because of its extensive reinterpretations in hip-hop beats. Is that part of the reason why you’re into P-Funk?

For me, P-Funk is absolutely classic L.A. — even if they’re not from here, their music lives here. It was always in the air at backyard boogies, park BBQs, block parties, and kickbacks — woven into the everyday soundtrack of growing up. Hip-hop flipped it, chopped it, reimagined it, and in the process made that whole universe feel like part of our hometown DNA.

My connection deepened while producing Mothership Landing: Funk and the AfroFuturist Universe of 1977 with Dexter Story. That project sent me into a full-on deep dive into the records that had always been orbiting my life — I was just finally listening with intention. That year alone gave us holy grails like All ’N All by Earth, Wind & Fire, Ahh… The Name Is Bootsy, Baby!, and both Parliament joints — Funkentelechy vs. the Placebo Syndrome and Live: P-Funk Earth Tour.

P-Funk isn’t just a band to me — it’s a frequency. It’s that dream language that traveled from backyard speakers into beat machines, shaping the sound of L.A. through generations. It’s joy, resistance, imagination, and community all wrapped into one cosmic groove that still feels like home every time the needle drops.

“P-Funk isn’t just a band to me — it’s a frequency”

Minnie Riperton – Love Lives Forever. Parliament – Funkentelechy vs. the Placebo Syndrome. “Records are time stamps, marking moments in our lives. Music has always been part of my DNA, and throughout my career some records stand out and shine ultra bright.”

What was the first record or piece of music that grabbed you and brought you into the world of collecting?

My first gateway into collecting came straight through my big sister Delia. She’s twelve years older than me, and we shared a room, so her record stack basically became my record school. I swiped The Smiths – Best II, then claimed her self-titled Portishead album and Björk’s Post — those albums cracked my mind wide open and reshaped how I heard music.

Even before the records, there were the tapes. Delia had this little Case Logic box under her bed, and I’d sneak it out and line the cassettes up like they were my students — while other kids played with dolls, I played teacher to Marc Almond, De La Soul, Dee-Lite, and this mysterious, colorful Memorex mixtape full of unknown magic. That was my first classroom, my first crate.

Music has always felt like a lifeline for me. I even learned reverse psychology young — when I got in trouble, I’d beg my mom, “Please don’t take away the TV,” knowing she would — and then I’d be left with nothing but the radio. And honestly? That was the real reward. Those late nights with the dial became my earliest collecting spirit — tuning, listening, dreaming — the moment I realized sound was something I wanted to chase forever.

In many ways, a simpler time.

Yeah, and the internet didn’t exist then, so you would have to sit on the floor and read the lyrics and liner notes that came with the CDs. I have thousands of CDs. I wish I would have started collecting vinyl when I was in high school. Back then, I worked mainly to be able to buy CDs and do extracurricular activities like… go to raves & concerts.

Another one of your selections was Minnie Ripperton’s Love Lives Forever. Are you drawn to artists with distinctive voices?

I think I’m drawn to voices when the moment calls for them. If I’m writing, I usually lean into instrumentals so my mind can stay clear and open. Other times, I let vocals guide me into language and culture — Brazilian records, for example, deepened my relationship with Portuguese. I love the poetry of lyrics, those untranslatable words and phrases that only live inside certain cultures and often reveal themselves through song.

Hip-hop actually led me to Minnie first — chasing samples opened the door — but it was producing live orchestral concerts that deepened that connection. In 2014, alongside Itai Shapira and Todd M. Simon, I produced Adventures From Paradise with The Decoders. I already loved Minnie’s staples, but for that project I dove headfirst into her catalog — long hours of composing, producing, and deep listening with Todd, letting her music guide the emotional arc of the show.

The concert brought together an unbelievable circle of voices — Niki Randa, Jimetta Rose, Nia Andrews, Amber Coffman, Angel Deradoorian, Kadhja Bonet, Kimbra with Leon Ware, Coco O., Moses Sumney, Thalma De Freitas, and so many more — and then, in the most cosmic twist, the final date landed on July 12th, the day Minnie became an ancestor. We all wore white, took a collective trip down memory lane, and were blessed by Dick Rudolph, with Maya Rudolph calling in via FaceTime. It felt less like a concert and more like a ceremony — a love letter to Minnie and the power of a singular, unforgettable voice.

“Drums are magic — they’re magnetic and powerful, and they’re a rhythmic conduit of cosmic conversation.”

At what point do you think you started taking yourself seriously as a record collector?

I didn’t think of myself as a record collector until so much later. I was just buying music because that’s what filled my spirit. It didn’t become a mission or this pulling factor in my life until much later.

I feel like working with Mochilla inspired that. I remember when B+, also known as photographer Brian B+ Cross, gave me an Elis Regina record, and he said, “I’m going to give you a record, but I want you to play it.” I stopped working with them shortly thereafter, but I held on to those words, and later, when I began to play records out more, I feel like that was the source. But definitely, my time at Mochilla was where I really got serious, at least about Brazilian records.

Photographers, historians, producers, and directors B+ and Eric Coleman put many of us on to some of the holy grail Brazilian records, records like Jorge Ben Jor’s A Tábua de Esmeralda or Pedro Santos’ Krishnanda.

Some of my greatest teachers were mixtapes by B+, Coleman, Madlib, DJ Nuts, and J. Rocc, as well as living room sessions paired with caipirinhas and lots of vinyl. I was fortunate to be in the house at Mochilla when some of those discoveries were being made and shared. At that point, I dove into the search and the find, looking for the records on the mixtapes, used them as my compass, and made many discoveries of my own while on the journey.

Arthur Verocai – Self-titled, Arthur Verocai – Timeless, Carlos Dafé – Pra Que Vou Recordar
“All three of these records are connected to my spirit. I met both Dafé and Verocai in 2009 when I was working with the photography/film/production company Mochilla. We produced Timeless: The Composer/Arranger Series in Los Angeles. Since then, Verocai and I have become friends. Every time I land in Rio de Janeiro, he’s one of the first people I call.”

You’re obviously pretty deep into Brazilian records. Do you have an artist that you always go back to, a kind of standard record that you feel everyone should know?

I play Jorge Ben Jor’s music in almost all of my live sets. In my opinion, he’s the GOAT. Record for record, hit for hit, he is unbeatable.

You seem to have a special attachment to Arthur Verocai and his legendary self-titled album, which is a truly rare record and considered by many to be a holy grail in the record-digging community. Can you tell us about your interactions with him?

Yes — I was part of the 2009 Mochilla/ArtDontSleep/VTech production Timeless: Arthur Verocai, and that experience became a deep lesson in sound, spirit, and scale for me. Verocai’s music was unlike anything I had heard from Brazil before — cinematic, emotionally rich, and beautifully dramatic, with an intensity that pulls your whole being into the moment.

Tracks like “Na Boca Do Sol” open with a horn section so bold it feels like a ceremonial call, demanding your full attention before the song even unfolds. His orchestral compositions are pure magic — lush strings intertwined with towering, fearless horns — creating a sound that feels both intimate and immense at the same time. To think a young musician was crafting something this daring in 1972 Brazil still leaves me in awe. It’s not just a rare record — it’s a powerful, timeless work of art.

Even within the vast history of Brazilian music, Verocai’s self-titled record is an outlier. What makes it special?

The record was different and ahead of its time. Verocai was on another vibration that didn’t fully resonate when it came out. No one was hiring large orchestras like he was. It was expensive but incredible and would ultimately stand the test of time because it wasn’t like anything else. His peers were diving into Tropicália, and some of them were getting exiled out of Brazil due to the military dictatorship, which changed their sound. He was listening to classical music and Wes Montgomery, and his compositions reflected that. The way that hip-hop sampled the record and brought it out of obscurity is truly a fairytale story.

You have since had a chance to become friendly with Verocai. Is he still composing? Are there other records that he worked on, back in the day or more recently, that you recommend?

He’s still composing. I love the work he’s recently done with BADBADNOTGOOD and Hiatus Kaiyote. He, like many musicians, has incredible unreleased music that will hopefully someday see the light of day. I wish I could share what I’m most excited about, but it’ll be worth the wait, I promise.

Carlos Dafé – Pra Que Vou Recordar. “I first became aware of Carlos Dafé while helping produce the Timeless series. I met him before I heard his music. His light is a bright one. Working with so many musicians and creatives is never a walk in the park, sometimes it can get gloomy and Dafé was always an ultra ray of sunshine. He would walk into the rehearsal space bright and early, smiling and singing, and would turn everyone’s frown upside down.”

Amazing. What can you share with us about Carlos Dafé?

I discovered Dafé through Timeless: Verocai, the arranger-composer series I’ve been talking about. I met him in person before I started looking for his solo records, which take you on a tropical, soulful, funky trip with a touch of disco. Dafé’s records are like his personality—they’re upbeat and happy. Perfect for the dance floor.

Can you tell me a little bit about your Nueve event? It seems a unique way to bring people together who share a love for music.

Carlos Niño had an event called 360 Degrees Around the Globe, and he would have it in different locations, sometimes in people’s houses. After a while, he asked me to take it over, and I said yes. Carlos welcomed me to change the name, so I decided to call it Nueve (nine in Spanish) because 3+6+0 is nine, and nine is completion in numerology. I also joke around that there are nine members in Wu-Tang and nine planets and nine months to make a baby—all these different interpretations. So I called it Nueve Record Potluck because it’s a nourishing sonic array of sounds, an evening soundtracked by the collective. I would invite people to bring and play nine records. And nine records is approximately 30 minutes; you could definitely curate a set and actually say something with your selections.

When I first started Nueve, the vast majority of records I had were jazz records. What really pushed me to step outside of that was a moment when Madlib came in and watched me spin for a while. He kind of poked me—not in a mean way, but in a playful, encouraging way—for only playing jazz. At that point, I didn’t actually own very many records, and I was still figuring things out.

But after that interaction, I felt genuinely inspired to broaden my horizons. I began digging deeper and exploring outside the jazz section with more intention. That moment helped me understand that Nueve could be a space to stretch a bit more—to try new sounds, expand my collection, and grow past the comfort zone I had in the beginning.

And now Nueve lives on Dublab. It’s a radio show with record collector, artist manager, record store owner, supreme cohost, PayRay, and it’s still vinyl only, and we invite guests to bring nine records. Usually PayRay will play nine records, I’ll play nine records, and our guest will play nine records, and then we’ll talk a little bit in between. And when it’s a live experience, it’s Nueve Record Potluck. For that one, there’s a sign-in sheet, and I basically will just text a few homies and encourage them to text their nerdy homies who have records they want to share. I’ve met so many incredible people, and heard so many amazing records over the years doing Nueve. It’s definitely the gift that keeps on giving.

“...one of the greatest lineups of one of the greatest groups of musicians in the world.”

Is there a particular record you can think of that exemplifies this long-running series for you?

I’d have to go with Ta’Raach & The Lovelution – The Fevers. I love that record! A Nueve Record Potluck staple. Ta’Raach is a friend; part of the same music scene. We were all just hanging out in the early 2000s, going to and throwing after-hours house parties with instruments in every room, hosting jam sessions, and continuously creating. I love Ta’Raach’s lyrical technique and think he’s a very unique rapper—his articulation pattern, he’s an intentional and present spirit. So playing his music at Nueve was extra special.

Ta’Raach & The Lovelution – The Fevers. “Detroit is a magical place, and some of the musicians and wordsmiths from the Motor City really protected me, lifted my spirits, and held me up. When I first started playing records out in a public setting, I was hesitant to call myself a DJ, so playing ‘I Don’t Rock Parties’ always made me feel good — kept a smirk on my face. I was reminding folks that I wasn’t about the popular joints; I was about the deep digs, the cuts that got the party going, that made your wrist move.”

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Ro 'Wyldeflower' Contreras and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

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Do you have a philosophy of record collecting? How do you decide what to bring into your collection and what to keep?

My philosophy of collecting is all heart, all function — there’s nothing museum-style about it for me. I don’t collect just to possess; I collect to share. Every record has to earn its place by asking one simple question: Can I play this out? If it can move a dance floor, open someone’s ears, or shift energy in a room, then it belongs in my crates. Sample classics, dance-floor joints, the records that connect generations — that’s the core of my collection.

The one true exception is Brazilian music. I treat those records differently. They’re organized by first name — the way they do it in Brazilian shops — not by last name like the rest of the world. And they’re the only records I feel called to chase as first pressings. Everything else? I’m cool with a third pressing, a reissue, whatever — as long as it sounds clean and hits right. For Brazil, though, I need that original spirit pressed into the wax. It feels sacred to me.

At the end of the day, records aren’t meant to just live on shelves — they’re meant to travel. Owning them is beautiful, but taking them out into the world is the real magic. Dropping that needle in front of other people, watching their faces light up, seeing the room shift — that’s the fulfillment. I collect so the music can keep moving, just like the culture it comes from.

Do you get much of a chance to travel? And if so, do you always look for records when you are visiting a new place?

It kind of feels impossible for me to separate the two — travel and record digging always go hand in hand. Sometimes I’ll plan an entire trip around digging, like going to Brazil with that as the sole focus. Other times, I’ll realize I’m headed somewhere like London or Paris and think, Okay, let me see what’s cracking over here. Wherever I land, the record hunt naturally becomes part of the journey.

Brazil is the one real exception. There’s something extra there for me. I don’t know what it is — especially since I’m very Mexican, and both of my parents are Mexican — that was the music in the house. But Brazilian music has always felt magical and magnetic to me. Being there carries a different energy, a different vibration than anywhere else in the world. It feels special in a way I can’t quite explain, and that keeps calling me back.

One more Brazilian joint before we move on. How did you acquire that Dom Salvador E Abolição Som, Sangue e Raça album?

Ah yes — that one came through Massa from Japan. He’s a friend of a friend who visited Rio, fell in love, got married, and never left. Total record nerd, longtime music soulmate.

I flew down to Brazil in November for a record fair — even though I’d already been there that spring — because I was fully locked in on finding this one album: Dom Salvador e Abolição – Som, Sangue e Raça. I’d chased it on past trips and came up empty every time, so I honestly thought my luck would be the same. But when it finally surfaced, I didn’t hesitate — I spent my entire record budget for the trip on that single LP. It was the one I came for, and thanks to Massa, it made its way into my hands at last.

“Brazilian music. I treat those records differently. They’re organized by first name — the way they do it in Brazilian shops — not by last name like the rest of the world. And they’re the only records I feel called to chase as first pressings.”

Record collecting is not all about crazy rarities and archaeological-level scores. Do you have a record you’re really into that’s a little bit more easily accessible?

You truly can’t go wrong with Fresh by Sly and the Family Stone. Sly is one of the greatest to ever do it — full stop. I’ve watched every documentary, read the books, lived inside that catalog — and to me, Sly and the Family Stone is straight-up classic American music. Psychedelic, funky, radical, beautiful, raw — it’s the sound of freedom and friction all braided into one band.

My connection to Sly goes even deeper because I co-produced a live tribute production with Dr. Dexter Story called Higher! The Psychedelic Genius of Sly and the Family Stone (1966–1983), in collaboration with my dear friend Novena Carmel — who also happens to be Sly’s daughter and the host of Morning Becomes Eclectic on KCRW. Being part of telling that story, honoring that legacy up close, made the music feel even more sacred to me.

I remember finding my copy of Fresh at Poobah Records in Pasadena — holding it in my hands, staring at that cover like a quiet vow — thinking, Okay… I’m officially stepping into the lineage of the holy grails. It wasn’t some impossible-to-find rarity, but it didn’t need to be. It was accessible, timeless, perfect — one of those records that reminds you that the real magic isn’t always about the rarest score, but about the records that soundtrack your becoming.

Sly and The Family Stone – Fresh.
“One of the greatest records of all time. An absolutely perfect collection of tunes perfectly woven together. This is a top-five album for me. One of those records you’d take to a deserted island with you.”

You are a DJ on KCRW, the amazing independent radio station in L.A. How did you get involved in that? Was it always a dream of yours to be on the radio?

Honestly, it was never a dream of mine to be on the radio. If anything, this came from other people seeing something in me before I could fully see it myself. For about fifteen years before radio, I was producing art and music events — spaces meant to uplift elders, honor the giants, and celebrate the people who’ve shaped our culture. In a way, that curation mindset isn’t so different from record collecting: it’s all about storytelling through sound and honoring lineage.

I would invite Novena Carmel to some of those events, and I think she caught a glimpse of something I hadn’t quite claimed yet. At that time, I was focused on bringing other people’s visions to life — not stepping into the spotlight myself. But Novena kept gently nudging me, asking if I’d ever consider doing radio. She asked more than once before I finally said yes and made a demo.

I went into it with zero ego — I didn’t see myself as a radio host, just as a lifelong student of music. I’d been teaching myself since I was a kid, sitting on the floor with liner notes spread out, absorbing everything I could. I tried to channel that same spirit into the demo — that deep love of discovery and sharing.

Novena listened, showed me how to submit it, and I sent it in… and somehow, I got the gig at KCRW. What’s wild is that in the very same month, I was also offered Nueve on Dublab — so I went from having no radio shows at all to suddenly hosting two.

I really love the contrast between the two spaces. Nueve on Dublab is totally free-form — vinyl only, uncensored, super nerdy, deep-dive energy. KCRW feels like a different but equally beautiful mission: blending new and classic music, spotlighting artists who truly need to be heard, and connecting the dots for a wider audience. Both tap into what I’ve always been about — sharing music as a form of honoring community and culture.

What does it mean to you to have such a prominent platform?

I just recorded my 214th KCRW broadcast, including covering for other shows. I’ve hosted three times at the Hollywood Bowl, which I’m super, super grateful for. I’ve guest-hosted Morning Becomes Eclectic a few times. I’ve done the bigger time slots, like the Saturday and Sunday slots. I’ve pretty much done almost every single slot. I’ve just really loved it. I didn’t know I was gonna like it this much, you know. I surprised myself. Radio is a world that I really love.

Sometimes I reminisce about how my sister used to work for Art Laboe, taking down the dedications because she had very nice gangster handwriting—like a real chola—the best handwriting I’ve ever seen. And, you know, with my dad being in the music business back in the day as well, it just kind of makes sense.

Sun Ra and His Myth Science Arkestra – Angels and Demons at Play.
“‘Tiny Pyramids’ is the song that pulled me into this record. The bass line is just magical, and it was one of those records that sounded so beautiful on a good sound system.”

Most of the records you selected are jazz or funk, or at the very least are all a part of the African diaspora in the broadest terms, stretching from the U.S. down to Brazil and back. This last record is something different. Classic rock singer-songwriter Paul Simon has a few drum breaks in his catalog, including this one. Great track, but definitely stands out among your selections here. What draws you to this record?

Funk, soul, Brazilian music, and jazz — those were the sounds I discovered on my own, crate by crate, in the record shop. Nobody handed them to me. I had to stumble into them, follow my curiosity, and let the records reveal themselves, so they carry this deeply personal imprint for me. At the same time, my older cousins were schooling me in Wu-Tang, and my graffiti crew put me onto Heltah Skeltah and Boot Camp Clik during the backpack era. Digging led me to Gang Starr and A Tribe Called Quest — and those records opened the doorway into jazz for me. And I always have to give flowers to Freestyle Fellowship, Leimert Park, and especially the World Stage — that space cracked my ears wide open to jazz as culture, as lineage, as a living breath.

When it comes to Paul Simon, though, this selection is straight-up sample syndrome. I actually heard the Platinum Pied Pipers’ version of “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” before I ever heard the original — so when I finally tracked down Paul Simon’s cut, I was instantly locked in. That drum break pulled me backwards in time, and suddenly the song made perfect sense in my world too.

I grew up surrounded by a wild spectrum of sound — classic rock playing alongside mariachi from my Papa Oscar’s radio, banda drifting out of the kitchen while Mama Bella cooked. My uncles and cousins were spinning everything from The Beatles and The Doors to Depeche Mode and The Cure, Creedence Clearwater Revival and — somehow — Neil Diamond. So a record like 50 Ways never felt foreign to me. It belonged to that beautiful mash-up of music I was raised inside of.

For me, all of it connects — funk to jazz to hip-hop to classic rock — it’s just different accents of the same global rhythm. That Paul Simon track might look like the outlier on paper, but sonically and spiritually, it sits right in the pocket of my personal musical story.

Paul Simon – Still Crazy After All These Years.
“It makes me smile to remember that there was a time when I was obsessed with the song ‘50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.’ I drove my roommates crazy when I finally found it on vinyl and played it on repeat every morning for weeks.”

Right on. Any concluding thoughts as we wrap up?

I’d like to shout out the RTD bus that would get me from Pasadena to Leimert Park when I was in high school for being one of the greatest teachers and gateways to LA Jazz, Hip Hop, and graffiti!

Rocio “Wyldeflower” Contreras is a Los Angeles–based DJ, record collector, and KCRW radio host known for weaving jazz, funk, Brazilian music, and hip-hop across dance floors, airwaves, and community spaces. She is the co-host and creator of Nueve on Dublab and has produced orchestral concerts, live events, and music programs celebrating music from all over the globe, with a special emphasis on crate-digging culture.

kcrw.com/wyldeflower

instagram.com/wyldeflower

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Ro 'Wyldeflower' Contreras and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

Order Now

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Charlie Dark

Dom Servini — Fri, 07 Nov 2025 02:12:38 +0000

CHARLIE DARK

Peace, Positivity, and Blessings

BY Dom Servini

Born in the early 1970s in London’s salubrious East Dulwich to Ghanaian parents who sacrificed for their children, Charlie Dark’s upbringing was anything but run-of-the-mill. As a teenager, he found himself in private school, feeling like something of a misfit, an “alien,” to use his own words. It was his mother, perhaps without realizing it, who provided both the most significant education and, thereby, the answer to Charlie’s predicament.

Charlie’s mother arrived in London in the late 1960s, via New York, where she studied. Living in an apartment that was perfectly positioned opposite the Apollo Theatre, the venue became her local hotspot, where she regularly checked out live shows from legends like James Brown, Ray Charles, and Aretha Franklin. Not only that, she had the record collection to match those live performances she saw. It wasn’t until the rare groove period of the mid-1980s that young Charlie realized he already owned all of these records that were suddenly prized, and that music itself would provide both an artistic outlet and a way to be accepted by peers.

“People were like, ‘Oh, he knows about music!’ because I grew up in a musical house. I didn’t think it was special to have music and records around, it was just normal,” he says.

Armed with his mother’s musical heritage, his newfound love of hip-hop, and the belated discovery of Fela Kuti on a visit to Ghana, Charlie stepped out into the world determined to make DJing his career. “Up until that point,” he says, “My whole life was geared towards academia to then become a lawyer or a doctor, but I was determined to get into the entertainment industry”

It was only when he met fellow music enthusiast, Tony Nwachukwu, at the start of the ‘90s that his musical vision began to expand and bring about greater possibilities. The pair would go on to form revered 1990s outfit Attica Blues, and after a chance encounter with a sixteen-year-old James Lavelle, were signed to his fledgling label, Mo Wax. International touring and everything that goes with that followed. Soon thereafter, Charlie went on to take club land by storm with his legendary Blacktronika parties, before he began focussing his talents in other areas.

Around the turn of the century, Charlie again harnessed another of his passions, marathon running. Run Dem Crew brought together a community of would-be athletes and music lovers to exchange ideas and pound the streets of London. It’s become something of an institution in the capital and even spawned its own radio station, Run Dem Radio.

During the Covid lockdown, encouraged by the reception his shows on Run Dem Radio and Gilles Peterson’s Worldwide FM had been having, Charlie made the bold decision to work towards returning to the club DJ landscape. A busy schedule followed as the world reopened, and Charlie found a new, younger audience and a smattering of elders who’d managed to stay the distance, to spread his message of “peace, positivity and blessings.”

Here, we examine Dark’s musical journey, from familial history to his rise with Mo’ Wax, to his current incarnation as an astutely, uncompromising DJ.

"I was in a very strange situation as I was a young, black kid from Ghana. Most of my friends were from Jamaica and I went to a very esteemed private school—I called it the Bermuda Triangle. So trying to work out who I was and where I fit in was difficult. That Roy Ayers and Fela Kuti record helped it all make sense."

—Charlie Dark

Charlie’s Bespoke Shelving System. “Each one is a piece of history, a slice of time and a memory of a creative moment.”

Your music space feels like it’s an exclusive back room at a club—loose but focused. Is there a filing system on your record wall, or has it come together more organically?

Some of it is alphabetical, some by label, some by memories, and some of it is not in any order at all because I like to have a section that I can dig through to find surprises. For example, if I find a Fela Kuti record next to a deep house record, then I start thinking about how the two flow together. When it’s too alphabetical, I find it just becomes like a museum. I like my record collection to be alive and to feel like it’s constantly evolving. In the days when people were getting their record collections stolen, my attitude was that if it’s not in alphabetical order, it makes it a bit more difficult to come and decide that you’re taking that section! It’s like having my own weird security system!

You mentioned your mom had a massive record collection when you were growing up. How much of that collection did you inherit?

I borrowed, liberated and not returned quite a number of her records. A good example is by Nkengas, which is an early incarnation of Nigerian outfit Nkengas Super Stars Of Africa, appropriately entitled Nkengas In London. It’s an example of the kind of African music that would regularly be played in our house. At the time, I was slightly embarrassed by it. Now I feel that I’ve come full circle and grown to love playing Highlife music and introducing it to new people. Records like this are golden gems that remind me of African weddings, christenings, and family gatherings.

The Nkengas – Nkengas in London. “Highlife classic from 73 that came out of my mothers collection and was never returned. A staple in my household and Ghanian gatherings when I was growing up, I’ve literally heard this record hundreds of times over the years. Another one of those records I grew to appreciate more as I got deeper into investigating the music of my homeland.
As a kid whenever this came on you were usually bored, and being told to behave at a family gathering when you’d rather be out in the street playing with your mates. Years later it’s become the record I play whenever I’m missing family as it immediately reminds me of home. A must have for any collection. Asa Mpete Special is my favorite but the entire album is golden.”

Fela Aníkúlápó Kuti and Roy Ayers – Music Of Many Colors. “I knew who Roy Ayers was, but I had never heard of Fela Kuti. I remember putting it on an old gramophone at my dad’s house and I went from hating everything African about myself to falling in love with the music from that continent!! When Fela spoke about Africa being “the center of the world”, and Roy was talking about being inspired to go to Africa and make this record, I suddenly realised that I should be proud! I came back to London from Ghana wearing beads, black leather and Black panther berets and began to learn more about my culture. I was about fifteen years old and it made a huge impression on me.”

Did your dad have a similar musical influence on you?

Dad was into The Beatles, Motown, and R&B, but my most life-changing musical experience happened in the mid-1980s when I was sent to Africa to be with him. This was something that happened to a lot of Ghanaian and Nigerian kids at school, and some never came back. My mom was worried about me wearing strange clothes, talking in a weird way due to hip-hop’s influence, and not concentrating on my studies, and thought some time in Africa would do me good. I really didn’t want to go, but Ghana opened me up to a whole new world of music.

One day, I was digging through a pile of records at a local market when I discovered a record by Fela Kuti and Roy Ayers, titled Music Of Many Colours. I knew who Roy Ayers was, but I had never heard of Fela Kuti. I remember putting it on an old gramophone at my dad’s house. I went from hating everything African about myself to falling in love with the music from that continent! When Fela spoke about Africa being “the center of the world,” and Roy talked about being inspired to go to Africa to make this record, I suddenly realized that I should be proud! I came back to London wearing beads, black leather, and a Malcolm X beret and began to learn more about our culture. I was about fifteen years old and it made a huge impression on me. I was in a very strange situation as I was a young, black kid from Ghana. Most of my friends were from Jamaica and I went to a very esteemed private school—I called it the Bermuda Triangle. So trying to work out who I was and where I fit in was difficult. That Roy Ayers and Fela Kuti record helped it all make sense.

Describe your very early days as a DJ and who your influences were.

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One of my biggest influences was Norman Jay. He used to play “Car Wash” by Rose Royce a lot. Everyone knows this tune now but it stopped being regarded as cool. At the time, it was a brand new tune to me, and it blew my mind. I managed to get myself a copy when a girl at school decided to have a sixteenth birthday party. She had assumed that I knew about music as I was one of the only black kids at school and asked me to DJ. I, of course, told her that I DJ all the time and would do it.

So, I played this record and it got such an amazing reaction! I was so excited that I accidentally picked the needle up off the record while it was playing, and everyone in this place stopped dancing and stared at me. I realized that this was the first time in my life that I felt seen and that I had some sort of power. At that moment, I decided to make DJing happen. All because of that record.

Along with being a DJ and producer, you’re a poet and spoken word artist. Tell us when you started writing poetry and how that was influenced by your record collection.

I started writing poetry in the early 1990s. I’d always been keen on writing at school, so when I heard there was this spoken word scene emerging out of hip-hop in New York, I started listening more intently to records that had that kind of material on them. One of those records was “The Poem” by Bobby Konders which sampled “Dis Poem” by Mutabaruka, which was a big record on the acid house scene. Hearing names like Jomo Kenyatta, Malcolm X, and Marcus Garvey on that record was a hugely significant moment for me. I’d heard the names before from my parents, so I didn’t necessarily pay as much attention as I should have, but hearing them in a club situation was something else.

Rose Royce – Best of Car Wash. “Everyone knows this tune now… but at the time it was a brand new tune to me and it blew my mind.”

Nu Shooz – “I Can’t Wait”. Central Line – “Walking Into The Sunshine”. “Pirate radio and warehouse parties were my jam in the 80’s and early 90’s and these are two tunes that immediately take me back to that era. I’m a big Larry Levan collector and try to pick up anything with his name on – his mix of ‘Walking into Sunshine’ is deadly. A feel good extended groove with a perfect DJ arrangement. Essential foundation records that will never go out of style. Seek and you shall be rewarded.”

"I went from hating everything African about myself to falling in love with the music from that continent! When Fela spoke about Africa being “the center of the world,” and Roy talked about being inspired to go to Africa to make this record, I suddenly realized that I should be proud!"

At what point did you meet Tony Nwachukwu and James Lavelle? How significant were these meetings in your musical journey?

I met Tony around 1990 and his references were the same as mine. He was listening to Fela Kuti, but also Soul II Soul. He was a bit older than me and worked at a shop that sold specialized music equipment. He was very knowledgeable, and I looked up to him–I still do. He would help me out and let me try using equipment that I simply couldn’t afford, and we bonded.

I met James around 1993. At this point, I’d kind of fallen out of love with hip-hop, especially the super violent, homophobic, and sexist aspects of it. I was looking for a record shop with a wider and more eclectic remit. Honest Jon’s in West London was exactly what I was looking for. James was working there at the time, he was only about sixteen years old. But he was into the Japanese hip-hop scene, Star Wars, Wild Style, and so on. He also had amazing connections with distributors in New York. So one day, he saw me and said, “You look like you’re into hip-hop. I’m starting a label. Can you make some records for me?”

This is very much like the girl at school who said “You look like a DJ.”

Yeah! So I rang Tony, told him about the conversation, and he was in. This was on Tuesday. James booked the first studio session for us that Saturday. I’d never met anyone as fearless as him. He made things happen. This was the thing I learned from James–as long as you have a telephone or wifi connection, anything is possible. You’ve just got to get to the person on the other end. I was in James’ office once when he simply phoned up the Beastie Boys. At the time, they were the biggest hip-hop act in the world, and James very casually called them up and spoke to them.

On Saturday, we started making the instrumental record. I brought my girlfriend down because that’s what the rappers would do on MTV. She brought her mate, who sang a little bit, and just before the end of the session, we asked her if she’d like to sing over a few bits. She asked us what she should sing, and I suggested “contemplating jazz”’ since that was a major element of the music. That became the record Contemplating Jazz.

Attica Blues – “Tender” (Dubplates). “These are dubplates of backing tracks from the Attica Blues live shows…Wow, this is amazing. I don’t wanna start crying now!”

How did being signed to Mo’ Wax affect your musical outlook?

Going on tour with James and DJ Shadow changed the way I collected music. It broadened my horizons and understanding of genres that were previously alien to me. And it made me dig deeper outside of my comfort zone. Before Mo Wax, I wasn’t listening to techno. I didn’t realize that a lot of those records were made in Detroit by people who looked like me, like Derrick May and Carl Craig.

I remember being in a record shop in Australia with Shadow, and everyone was in the soul and funk section apart from him–he’s in the rock section. He played me these strange prog-rock records, and when I heard the drum breaks, I was like, ‘Oh my god, he’s a genius!’ James, on the other hand, had this voracious appetite for cleaning out record shops. He’d walk in and tell them he wanted to take every soul record they had! It was the first time I’d been around people spending big money in one go on records.

So with all these influences abound, tell us about a significant record that you recorded for Mo’ Wax during this time.

Funnily enough, I’ve just come across something very special. I often deliberately scatter my records around in my collection so that I’ll lose them and find them again at a later, and often at an opportune time. These are dubplates of backing tracks from the Attica Blues live shows. This one is labeled as “Pen To Paper” but what I think this is, is an early version of “Tender,” which is one of our big tracks.

Black Renaissance – Body, Mind And Spirit. “It’s a really special, incredible record from the super mad intro to the crazy bassline. It’s my George Floyd record – one you really need to listen to and understand what it’s saying and how it relates to the Black Lives Matter movement today. It’s also a record I always recommend to people to use when meditating. It’s a versatile record! If I pack it and I get to play it then I know I’m having a good night and am really free.”

Is there a particular club venue or session that was vital to you during this period, and is there a record that always takes you back there when you hear it?

Plastic People was the one. A basement club in Shoreditch, East London. It was run by a young Nigerian guy called Ade, who also DJ’d at the venue. He was a real music head. For a relatively short period of time, it was home to some truly legendary gatherings and club nights. Gilles Peterson, Theo Parrish, and Floating Points all had residencies there, and we had a night called Blueprint Sessions.

Black Renaissance by Harry Whittaker. It’s the ultimate Plastic People record. The first time I heard it was at Gilles Peterson’s Dingwalls club on a Sunday afternoon in Camden, North West London. The lights went down and Gilles dropped it. All I was thinking was I wanted to see the sleeve. I somehow managed to work my way around to the DJ booth and all I could see was the red and black of the sleeve, which remains imprinted on my mind. Then one night at Plastics, Ade played it. He told us the story of how he found two copies of this mythical record! It later got re-issued by Love & Haight Records and I copped a copy. It’s one of those records you buy on site and I’ve probably got two or three copies at the moment. It’s a really special, incredible record–from the super mad intro to the crazy bassline.

It’s my George Floyd record, one you need to listen to and understand what it’s saying and how it relates to the Black Lives Matter movement today. It’s also a record I always recommend to people to use when meditating. It’s versatile. If I pack it and I get to play it, then I know I’m having a good night and am really free.

“It’s my George Floyd record, one you need to listen to and understand what it’s saying and how it relates to the Black Lives Matter movement today.”

“Peace, positivity, and blessings seem to be needed more than ever.”

And this freedom was the ethos of your seminal club night, Blacktronika, right?

Yep, I started my Blacktronika night because I’d been getting really disillusioned with how segregated music had become, as well as the idea that black music had been reduced to just hip-hop and R&B. I felt like there was all this other amazing music out there that was just being ignored, and I wanted to be able to go to a club where you could hear it all in one space. I realized that unless I start this myself, it’s not gonna happen. It was the beginning of what later became Run Dem Crew and this idea of building communities and collectives.

What are the differences in how you prepare for a DJ set these days in comparison to the times of Blacktronika and Plastic People?

When I’m packing a record box for a set these days, one of the things I really think about is being economical. So not over-packing, taking just the right amount, and being brave enough to kind of stand by what I bring.

“This is my original and first ever record box complete with stickers and flight tags from the days when the airlines would let you keep tags from previous flights on the box. Thinking about it now it’s no wonder my box would go missing all of the time! I paid £25 pound for this box and it’s been all over the world and witnessed many an epic set. When I’m feeling nostalgic I bring it out for gigs but it’s pretty battered now and deserves a quiet life. It’s definitely one of the family members and I’ll never get rid of it, just thinking about the firsts we achieved together makes me smile inside. Weirdly enough this record box inspired the beginning of Run Dem Crew and my work in the wellness world. I wrote and performed a one man show called ‘Have Box Will Travel” based on my early DJ career and the places I’d been to with the box. My director challenged me to get in shape for the role and I started running and the rest is history.”

Tom Tom Club – “Wordy Rappinghood”. “There was a period in the ‘80’s when the idea of connecting dots between musical genres really became a thing in underground clubland especially in the warehouse party circuit. You’d hear the Clash next to Schooly D next to Airto next to Fela Kuti and the floor would stay rammed with dancers.

Serious Intention – “You Don’t Know (Special Mix)”. “I first heard it pumping through the speaker boxes of the MasterMind Road Show at Carnival and thus forever cemented in my soul. The great Paul Simpson on the buttons and one of the first records to really grab my attention as a teenager. Great intro tune to kick off a set, killer synths, dubbed out effects and a boss daddy bass line. If perfection comes in a musical form then this is the record of all records, an all time favorite that will forever have a place in my box.”

The 9th Creation – Falling In Love. “There’s a track on this album called ‘Bubble Gum’ which starts with one of my favorite drum breaks of all time. I love the texture, the melody and the whole feel of this recording. It’s one of my most treasured records and it took me a long time to find a clean copy. My first copy got lost in a house move; I was mourning its departure for years and then I randomly found one recently at a record fair at a festival I was playing at. I love this record to bits and it’s one of my favorite records to chop up in my MPC.”

What’s your mindset when you start a DJ set?

I always think when you’re starting a mix, you need a reset. I always tell younger DJs not to be too concerned about dovetailing from what the previous DJ was playing, and don’t be afraid to make people walk off of the floor. A strong introduction is important, whatever the result.

What would be a good example of a record you might start a set with that might have that effect?

“Milte Hi Ankhen” also known as “Bird In Hand” by Sam Carty on Black Art Records is a particularly weird and wonderful enough record to warrant starting a set with. It was one of those random records that I saw in a shop and I just liked the color combination of the label. I think that if your design aesthetic code is strong, then that’s going to be reflected in the music. And so when I saw this was a Black Art release, with that particular combination, I just thought it was gonna be interesting, but it definitely wasn’t what I expected it to be.

And what would be an essential record that never leaves your box?

“Running Away” by Roy Ayers. I would describe this as essential foundation music. These days you meet a lot of people, especially young collectors, who have every super rare, obscure private press record that you could ever want. When you ask them about a foundation record, they just look at you blankly.

Roy Ayers – “Running Away”. “I would describe this as essential foundation music. These days you meet a lot of people, especially young collectors, who have every super rare, obscure private press record that you could ever want. When you ask them about a foundation record, they just look at you blankly. It’s the foundation records that help cement the rare records together in a set. They are moments for people to come up for air.”

Al Rose Trio – “Drum Talk”. “This is what I call a WTF record. Whenever I play it someone will always come up and ask ‘What the…is that?’ It’s a mad percussive raw drum record with an infectious driving baseline and a gigantic climatic ending. A perfect transition record and great for waking up the dance floor. One of those accidental finds where the combination of colors on the label caught my eye. Rookie tip – interesting labels or sleeves often contain hidden heat.”

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

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“Running Away” is always guaranteed a warm reception on the dance floor, but what’s the one song that has really surprised you by the reaction it got from the crowd?

“It’s Time For Juju Music” by Dele Abiodun. For me, this had one of the best reactions to any record I’ve played publicly in the last thirty-five years. I played it at the We Out Here festival and it just went off! These kinds of records, like “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2, which I played as my last record at Electric Chair in Manchester, to a similar reaction, have become so special to you because of those great moments you’ve had playing them. They’re also the kind of records that trip people up on the dance floor because they’re not expecting them.

“This had one of the best reactions to any record I’ve played publicly in the last 35 years. I played it at the We Out Here festival and it just went off! These kinds of records become so special to you because of those great moments you’ve had playing them. They’re the kind of records that trip people up on the dance floor - they’re not expecting them.”

Is there a genre of music that you’re championing that you think deserves to be heard by more people?

Soca, it’s the often derided music that you only usually hear once a year at the Notting Hill carnival and you can always find it in the bargain bin. But you have to listen to a tremendous amount of rubbish to find the gems. I’m passionate about collecting Soca music and have crates and crates of it. It’s the perfect music for people to listen to post-pandemic, uplifting, happy music!

Gloria Ifill And The Equitables – “All Night Long”. “I’m a big Soca collector, but you have to listen to so many average records before you find the gold. Initially it was the label design that drew me to the record and I can distinctly remember touching the needle down and immediately smiling. I love a good cover version, especially an alternative version of a well known sing-a-long song and this never fails to lift the energy on the dance floor and have people asking for the artist. Whenever I see a cheap copy I always pick it up as I’m always giving it away. A secret weapon for sure.”

Darkie – “Mr Darkie”. “During the pandemic I got more deeply into collecting Soca and Calypso records and this is one of the gems that I discovered that has since become a bit of a theme song in my sets. Soca gets a bad name in the collecting world but there are so many bangers hidden amongst the crates and it’s generally always cheap and plentiful. Guaranteed to lift the mood of the room and a good way to flex your mixing skills when you blend in a house tune afterwards.”

Darkie – “Mr Darkie”. “I love the inserts and back covers you find on Soca and Calypso records and they give a great context to the music contained within.”

Where does reggae sit in Charlie Dark’s record box?

I’ve got a big reggae collection. At one point I had 10,000 dancehall 7-inches. When dancehall became unfashionable, I started to check it, because I always check music when it’s being ignored and no one’s really after it.

A key record for me is “Five Man Army” by Dillinger with Trinity, Al Campbell, Wayne Wade, and Junior Tamlins on Oak Tree Records, which is one of my favorite reggae labels. It was famously sampled by Massive Attack on the track of the same name. It was one of those mythical records, but as soon as it was sampled, everyone, including myself, started chasing it.

When I was working at Mo’ Wax, a guy rang the office looking for a tune from the label that we had boxes and boxes of in the store room. I asked him if he wanted to swap it for something and if he had a copy of “Five Man Army.” He did, and he drove down from Milton Keynes and we did the swap on the stairs!

Dillinger with Trinity, Al Campbell, Wayne Wade and Junior Tamlins – “Five Man Army”. “A key record for me on one of my favorite reggae labels. It was famously sampled by Massive Attack on the track of the same name. It was one of those mythical records, but as soon as it was sampled, everyone, including myself, started chasing it.”

Finally, tell us about one record that’s key in your journey as a record collector.

There are certain records that I’ve collected over the years that have been really pivotal in my life, and You’ve Got To Have Freedom by Pharaoh Sanders is one of those. I first heard it on holiday as a teenager and just knew it as the freedom song. One of the most memorable times of playing it was at the Winter Music Conference in Miami. It was in 2003, and the second Gulf War had just broken out that day. Most people in the dance had only just become aware of that, and I felt it was my responsibility to react from the DJ booth, so I made it my last record of the night. It was a very emotional moment. Now, somewhat sadly, I usually have cause to play that record at least once a year. Peace, positivity, and blessings seem to be needed more than ever.

Pharoah Sanders – “You’ve Got To Have Freedom”. “I first heard it on holiday as a teenager and just knew it as ‘the freedom song’. One of the most memorable times of playing it was at the Winter Music Conference in Miami. It was in 2003, and the Second Gulf War had just broken out that day. Most people in the dance had only just become aware of that, and I felt it was my responsibility to react from the DJ booth, so I made it my last record of the night. It was a very emotional moment.”

Poet, DJ, community builder, and founder of Run Dem Crew, Charlie Dark has spent decades shaping London’s cultural landscape. From his early days collecting records from his mother’s Apollo-inspired collection to forming Attica Blues on Mo’ Wax, his journey bridges music, identity, and movement. Through his legendary Blacktronika parties and Run Dem Crew collective, Charlie has built spaces that celebrate connection, creativity, and the power of sound. Today, he continues to inspire a new generation of listeners with his message of peace, positivity, and blessings.

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Charlie Dark and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

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Zoë ‘Lucky Cat’ Baxter

Kevin Foakes — Thu, 23 Oct 2025 14:35:23 +0000

Zoë 'Lucky Cat' Baxter

A Cultural Sound Clash

BY Kevin Foakes

Arriving in Zoë Baxter’s living room is like stepping back in time and entering a contradictory cultural space. Her beloved Jamo speakers stand on either side of the Technics decks, powered by an amp older than she is. There’s a projector but no TV, a huge ‘50s Asian movie poster, and piles of her drawings covering a table in the corner. Trinkets and cartoon toy characters cover surfaces and shelves—Doraemon, the blue cat from Japan, Enid from Daniel Clowes’ Ghost World comic, and various examples of the lucky cats she takes her name from. Boxes of 7-inches, categorized in genres from ska, boss, RnB, rocksteady, 1990s dancehall, French chanteuses, and Chinese and Singaporean are scattered around. A drawing by her dad, the British surrealist artist, Glen Baxter, hangs on the wall; The House of Flying Daggers transformed into The House of Flying Vinyl.

A Londoner who loves reggae and East Asian culture, Zoe has been hosting her Lucky Cat show on the capital’s independent arts radio station, Resonance FM, for over fifteen years. She mixes the sounds and tastes of Jamaica, London, and the Far East into a unique blend each week. The show features the “Dim Sum lunchbox,” where she cooks a different Chinese or East Asian recipe every week and then tries it out on guests in the studio. In recent years, she founded the Sisters of Reggae DJ collective, an all-female crew of DJs. She is currently charting the history of sound system culture via interviews for her Sound System Stories series on the station.

“In the ‘70s it became the custom to put an instrumental ‘version’ on the B side so that MCs could toast over the rhythm after the vocal side was played. Prior to that you might have a ballad on the flip or a great instrumental like this one.”

—Lucky Cat Zoe

Some 45s with the flyer for the Tradition Hi-Fi 35th Anniversary Old Hits Cup Clash held in Nottingham, October 2019. “I was one of eight selectors competing in this clash organized by Tradition Records, my record dealer of choice. It was a wonderful evening and I was very pleased to come in third place. We all played on the Tradition valve sound system, which sounded warm and beautiful. There was some friendly banter and an eclectic atmosphere! Pablo Metro from West London took the cup that night but was given a good fight by Mark the Anthropologist from Norwich. This was my second clash and hopefully not my last.”

What’s really interesting to me is the mix of Chinese culture, Asian culture, and reggae—how did you get to this point? You started buying records when you were about twelve?

My dad collected records, so there were always records around. We were always taught to respect records. My older brother is a saxophonist and pianist, plays music by ear, and was really into music, including reggae, and he’s a bit older than me.

You’re one of five children. Oldest? Youngest?

I’m number four. But there’s quite a gap. My two older sisters and older brother have a different dad. So it’s like fifteen years between me and my oldest sister, and then there’s me and my brother, who came along later, with my dad. A very artsy, creative family: my mum’s an art teacher, and dad was an art teacher. That’s how they met, and then later on, my dad started to do very well with his drawings and became a full-time artist.

It is unusual to have a parent who works at home, and he’s at home all the time. You don’t really realize what’s normal when you’re growing up. You think, “This is normal,” and then you go round to someone else’s house and think, “Hold on a minute…” They used to be beatniks, but that was back in the day.

Some of Zoe’s artworks on display. “The cat in the background is the same cat from the Mimi and the Five Petals 45 pictured elsewhere. In the forefront, you can see a watercolor of an imaginary record sleeve.”

What music was your dad into?

My dad and his best friend Charlie often talked about music. His best friends, Dizzy and Charlie, moved to Athens, and we’d go out and visit them every summer. Charlie was a massive blues collector who ended up selling many of his records; however, he was also a collector of Rebetiko (Greek folk music), a beautiful genre with many great female stars.

Rosa Eskenazi was a Jewish singer who pretended not to be Jewish so that she could smuggle lots of people out in the 1940s in Greece, which was, of course, invaded by the Germans. So, they’re the sort of records where people cough in them and stuff, because they’re all in a hashish den, playing their Bazukis and talking in the intro or something. It gives a nice, natural authenticity to it.

When you went on holiday to Greece, were your dad and his friends looking for records?

No, they were just playing records and talking incessantly about music, football, and cinema while cracking dirty jokes. Records were always of high esteem, and my dad told a story I’ll never forget about his friend. Dad met up with many New York City poets in the 1970s, such as Ron Padgett and Larry Fagin. He told us a story about Larry’s girlfriend who was a junkie and used the story as a warning about what drugs can do to you but then also how important records are. Larry had gone out of town for the weekend, and she sold his entire record collection, which he had to go around everywhere and buy back. It has always impressed us that this is probably the worst thing you could do to another human being.

When I was twelve, at the school jumble sale, I bought a portable record player, and I bought this [brings out a red record tote box], which I will show you because I still keep it. I bought some records that day, like Pinocchio, and then I started filling it with records. I also found a swatch watch at a jumble sale. I loved Swatch watches and their bold graphic designs. The epitome of ‘80s cool!

Various Artists – Swatch Megamix. A promotional record issued by Swatch watches featuring Jellybean, Salt ‘n’ Pepa, Eric B & Rakim, and 1950s crooner Jerry Keller on the flip with “Time Has A Way” (originally on the B side of “Here Comes Summer”). “This was a jumble sale buy; I loved Swatch watches and their bold graphic designs. The epitome of ‘80s cool! There was a competition to win a Wurlitzer jukebox on the record; the ‘80s were full of 1950s nostalgia, which I adored.”

“My lovely record tote case was purchased at the school jumble sale, at the same time I bought my first turntable, about age 11. It is big enough to hold 7-inches or 10-inches. When you move it around, the little dancers move too. It smells great too!”

Was that music from your dad?

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It wasn’t, I never felt like I was born in the right era.

Which is why Ghost World appeals to you?

Yeah, basically, when my friends watched it, they were like, “Oh, this is you.”

So, you were into music, as most teenagers are, at twelve years old?

Yeah, but not really pop music. I liked rock and roll and RnB.

Where were you hearing that?

Well, I loved the cinema of the 1940s and 1950s.

And where were you seeing that?

My parents and all the Busby Berkeley musicals. My favorite one was The Gang’s All Here, with Benny Goodman. My friend and I used to dance around her front room to her dad’s Ella Fitzgerald records. We loved all of that. I just didn’t really want to live in the present. There were some concessions to what was happening, but I didn’t want to be a societal outcast.

I liked Madonna because she did a homage to the Marilyn Monroe film Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend, which I could relate to. I liked her kind of feistiness, and Desperately Seeking Susan was good. When she came on TV, dad said, “Who’s that strumpet?” So I thought, “Okay, they don’t like her, great, so this is something to do.” My dad is a massive Hank Williams fan, and I always hated country. Now, I love country, and I’ve got Hank Williams records. So I’ve come full circle with that.

Madonna – “The Look of Love.” A ballad track from the soundtrack of Who’s That Girl. “In school, I was eager to purchase some new music. I went to my local Woolworths and could only find this 45 to buy, very uncool, but here it is. I was a Madonna fan who adored Desperately Seeking Susan and had the Like a Virgin album on cassette. I’m slightly embarrassed about this one, but I have kept it all these years.”

Hank Williams – The Unforgettable Hank Williams. “My dad is a massive Hank Williams fan, and I always hated country growing up. I thought it was corny and laughable. As I grew older, I began to understand and appreciate the genius of Hank Williams’ songwriting and the sincerity of the emotion.

“In my late twenties, I was introduced to ‘the list’ … Once a month, you'd get a paper list in the post of records, and then you'd have to quickly phone Andrew (Neale) to tell him which ones you wanted, and then pay for them.”

This is another string to your bow that I had no idea about, the country angle. Or was it just Hank Williams?

Also, Patsy Cline; it’s mainly Hank and Patsy.

Have you got a definitive Patsy Cline record? Is there a particular tune?

There’s a record called “She’s Got You,” and one of the things in the lyrics is, “I’ve got your records, but she’s got you.” I listened, thinking, “Okay, I got the records.” There was a movie about her life with Jessica Lange called Sweet Dreams that we used to watch. My friends and I all liked that when we were growing up.

In the 1980s, there was a bit of a 1950s revival, and you had films like Dirty Dancing, which had “Love Is Strange” on the soundtrack. I wasn’t a fan of the film, but I thought the soundtrack was amazing. So then I researched and looked at all the tracks.

Mickey and Sylvia – Love Is Strange. Mickey Baker and Sylvia Robinson split in the ‘60s, and in the ‘70s, Sylvia went on to perform as a solo singer and was one of the founders of the rap label Sugar Hill Records. “I researched all the tracks and I found out that Mickey and Sylvia were really popular in Jamaica. Joya Landis recorded a cover of their track ‘Mommy Out De Light’ for producer Duke Reid in 1968.”

So, you’re buying records, getting into music, and you feel like you’re out of time. When did reggae come in? Which comes first: The Asian interest or reggae?

Reggae, the Asian interest is with my parents, who went to the same Chinese restaurant in Chinatown for 30 years, they had some Chinese friends they used to go with.

And you used to go with them?

Yeah, always a big love for Chinese food. Later on, maybe into my late teens, I got into Chinese cinema and stuff, especially martial arts cinema. But reggae came first because, growing up in South London, reggae was everywhere.

Where did you grow up exactly?

Walworth Road, Camberwell. So I remember being in the garden and hearing the neighbor blasting out “Buffalo Soldier” and then hearing more of the other UK artists, like this song, “Cockney Translator” (by Smiley Culture), and Desmond Dekker. I wasn’t really interested in pop music, so I thought, “What am I interested in?” It was the Jamaican music of the late 1980s and early 1990s.

So it’s more digital?

Yeah, digital. That’s why I’ve got quite a lot of 1990s dancehall.

Reggae records are known for their wonderful covers. Do you have any favorites?

I absolutely love the cover of Sizzla’s Praise Ye Jah. It is so playful, and Sizzla is wearing Clarks shoes, a Jamaican favorite! I bought this in New York when I went to a flea market in Chelsea. I love Wilfred Limonious and his cover art on Original Stalag. One that my dad handed down to me is We Are The Imperials, and I just love this cover.

Various Artists – Original Stalag 17-18 and 19. The Stalag rhythm was created by producer Winston Riley, who tragically met a sticky end, shot dead in 2012 at just 68. Riley started as a singer in the group The Techniques and later became a prolific producer, naming his label Techniques. “Stalag is my favorite rhythm, I love it so much! This is a wonderful LP for the music and also for the incredible artwork by Wilfred Limonious. Along with all the hits by Sister Nancy and Tenor Saw on the record, I love Yami Bolo’s ‘When A Man’s in Love.’ You just have to bend and sway when you hear the bass and drums drop.”

Back of Original Stalag 17-18 and 19. A few years back, Al Fingers and Christopher Bateman put out a great book, In Fine Style: The Dancehall Art of Wilfred Limonious.“There was an accompanying exhibition that I went to see in Oldham. The humor and movement Limonius captures in his illustrations is truly inspiring.”

Sizzla – Praise Ye Jah. Sizzla Kaungi aka Miguel Collins is a singjay – this means he both sings and DJs. Sizzla gained popularity in the ‘90s with his raspy delivery, roots and culture Rasta lyrics, and bombastic energy. “I absolutely love this cover. It is so playful, and Sizzla is wearing Clarks shoes, a Jamaican favorite! I bought this in New York, when I went to a flea market in Chelsea. I had this stack of records like, ‘I’m never gonna afford all of these.’ And then suddenly the guy goes, ‘Sale today! Everything’s $1.’ That was a good day.”

Anthony and the Imperials – We Are The Imperials Featuring Little Anthony. “I just love this cover. This is one of my Dad’s that he handed down to me. I love the sentimental and passionate thrill of doo wop music, ‘Tears On My Pillow’ is the most classic on this record. I grew up listening to a lot of doo wop, my parents love Frankie Lymon, Harvey & the Moon Glows, all those wonderful groups which Scorsese has featured heavily in his movie soundtracks over the years. I was raised on The Ink Spots!”

What was the first reggae record you owned? The first that you sought out and thought, “I like this.”

Buju Banton’s Mr. Mention is my first and favorite. This is on Penthouse Records, a label founded by Donovan Jermaine. He’s still going. It’s a great label, and then I discovered that reggae wasn’t really about albums. It was more about singles because artists would work with so many different producers. So I started buying compilations. But there were very few albums like this; it’s an example of an artist and their work.

Buju Banton – Mr Mention. “This was the first Buju Banton record I bought. The energy and exuberance of Buju Banton had me hooked the first time I heard him on the mic. This was before he found Rastafarianism; this is pure dancehall produced by one of the greats, Donovan Germain. We didn’t call it dancehall then, though, we called it ragga (short for raggamuffin). I just love the outfit too, chiffon and leopard skin, so understated!”

He got in trouble, didn’t he?

He made a controversial homophobic record called Boom Bye Bye. He was nineteen when he made that record in the atmosphere of Jamaica, which was incredibly religious. He has since apologized, and I think it’s okay now, but he can’t come to the UK because he was convicted of a drug charge, and he was in prison for it.

Buju served time in prison in America on drugs and firearm charges. He was released the year before lockdown began. Everyone was so excited about him getting out, but I didn’t buy his latest album. Til Shiloh is the best one because this is when Buju found Rastafarianism, and his music became a lot more within the roots tradition of reggae and wasn’t so much dancehall.

Buju Banton – ‘Til Shiloh. Released in 1995, this album marked a new creative and spiritual awakening for Buju Banton. Til Shiloh means until forever or until the judgment. It was a big lyrical and musical departure from Buju’s previous work. “I remember when this came out and the excitement and intrigue surrounding it. This LP shows Buju’s new depth and maturity, which honors the tradition of Rastafari teachings in reggae music. I’ve seen him twice perform live in the UK; his energy and charisma are unmatched for me.”

Do you care for the analog/digital side of things with reggae? Some real purists don’t touch digital at all, right?

No, because this is my youth, and this is nostalgic for me; it doesn’t matter. I love to hear instruments, and I think digital has done a lot of damage to the industry, but I’m not dismissive of it and I embrace it. Now you listen back, there’s a lot of great music. With collecting, people were snobbish about dancehall for a while, saying, “Oh, it’s worth nothing,” but I’ve noticed the prices are going up. So I noticed that being valued more.

When you found that, were you just completely smitten?

Yes, and I still had all my other influences as well. My dad plays boogie woogie piano, and he used to listen to a lot of blues as well, and then I went to see a movie about the Brill Building in New York, about Leiber and Stoller and all these amazing songwriters. I’ve got this album here, The Dimension Dolls by The Cookies; Carole King wrote for these guys, and the Brill Building was like a factory for songwriters.

Bobby Darin worked there, and I love all the girl groups and that sound. I also love doo-wop, as my dad was a big doo-wop fan. I was living in two places; I was living in the 1990s dancehall, but living in 1950s Americana as well. I also bought jungle; I love the bass and the energy of jungle, and it felt like it was our music.

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Zoë and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

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“When I bought a record, I would record it on tape, place it in the sleeve, and I would never play it again; that was it. Tapes were my thing, so I had a Walkman; this was how I would operate.”

When did you decide to be a DJ? Did you want to be a radio presenter? Or were you into clubbing?

I was quite shy, so it didn’t happen until a lot later. I used to make my friend mix cassettes and pretend I was a DJ and do some silly voices and skits, they don’t exist anymore, thankfully. The first time I DJ’d, I was 25, and my sister asked me to DJ at her 40th birthday party.

Did you have turntables, or did you just have a record collection?

My younger brother is a massive hip-hop nerd, so he had decks. I had the stack system with the bright turquoise equalizer buttons and the high-speed dubbing, double tapes. What I would do, because I had this story from my dad about how records are important, was never leave them out of the sleeves—never, never, never, never. When I bought a record, I would record it on tape, place it in the sleeve, and I would never play it again; that was it. Tapes were my thing, so I had a Walkman; this was how I would operate.

Do you collect dubplates?

I haven’t had any dubplates cut for myself yet, but I’ve thought about it. You can only play dubplate acetates a certain amount of times, and who knows how many spins they have already taken?

King Jammy’s “Eau de Dubplate.” DJ Food and Zoë caught sniffing Dubplates. “I haven’t had any dubplates cut for myself yet, but I’ve thought about it, and these ones are of particular interest to me for different reasons. You can only play dubplate acetates a certain amount of times and who knows how many spins these have already had? So yeah, these don’t get played very often.”

How do you go about finding records?

In my late twenties, I was introduced to “the list.” Andrew Neale is based in Nottingham and has produced a record sales list for 35 years. Once a month, you’d get a paper list in the post of records, and then you’d have to quickly phone Andrew to tell him which ones you wanted, and then pay for them.

What was on the list? Only reggae?

Mainly reggae but with some original sound system RnB stuff. Andrew would buy collections in Jamaica and the UK. Andrew’s still doing the list to this day, with email now, but he hasn’t changed; he still does it on his typewriter. He’ll do it on the typewriter, and then he’ll scan it in and email it. There’s no order to it, and when you do it on the typewriter, there’s no way you could search through.

On the cover and back page, he scans some of the records’ labels that will be on the list. He’s always making jokes in it, and it’s quite a fun thing to do, and you know there’s that feeling of, “Who’s gonna get there first…”

And does he still go to Jamaica to buy collections?

He hasn’t been for a while, but told me he still has parcels he hasn’t opened from Jamaica.

Andrew did a clash a few years ago, which I was part of. It was an old hits clash.

Can you explain what happens in a clash for the uninitiated?

Well, there are two types of clash. There’s a sound clash where two sound systems will clash against each other. It’s all about who sounds the best and the loudest and who has the most exclusive tracks.

Then the other clash is a DJ clash, where you’re just clashing as DJs on somebody’s sound, right? So I entered two of those. The first was a lovers rock and revival cup clash in Catford.

It was me and I had an MC, Mad X; my friend Lisa was with me, and we competed with that. Very strict rules. They sent us a list of about 100 tunes we weren’t allowed to play because they are popular. Lovers rock had to be UK lovers rock; somebody got thrown out for playing a Jamaican track. The records had to be an original press, someone got chucked out for playing a repress, and it had to be released before 1984, which was the cutoff. But there were different rounds; the first round was party anthems, then a roots round, and then a Studio One—Jamaica’s Motown label. I didn’t get through on that one, for several reasons…

The Soulettes – “King Street.” The Soulettes were a vocal trio in ‘60s Jamaica headed up by Rita Marley. The Soulettes style of harmonising was influenced by American doo wop and RnB records that were popular in Jamaica in the ‘50s and ‘60s. “Here you can see I have drawn the Coxsone logo and written the title info onto the blank label. This is a bit of an oddity as one side of this record has a label (pictured below), but the other side is blank. This is a beautiful record with sweet vocals and a jaunty beat; I love it so.”

The Soul Vendors – “Musical Happiness.” The producer, Coxsone Dodd, assembled a backing group of musicians in 1967 to form The Soul Vendors: Roland Alphonso, Jackie Mittoo, Johnny Moore, Lloyd Brevett, Bunny Williams, and Errol Walters. The band would accompany many great, talented singers who recorded at Studio One in Jamaica. “I have been guilty of not turning over to hear the B side and missing some gems. Now I always flip the 45 to find out if there is a hidden treasure! In the ‘70s, it became custom to put an instrumental version on the B side so that MCs could toast over the rhythm after playing the vocal side. Before that, you might have a ballad on the flip or a great instrumental like this one.”

So, the crowd’s reaction determines what you play?

Well, it depends. In this one, they had judges scoring, and they also had crowd reaction for tie-break situations. I’m telling you, this place was packed. There were people there with these klaxon horns going, “Deeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrr!!!” It was quite intimidating playing there, but I enjoyed it.

There was a point where I went through because I played a classic clash song called “Hard Man Fe Dead” by Prince Buster, and it’s got a line in it about the cat having nine lives. I made a little joke on the mic before I played it, and then everyone went absolutely nuts. It was great, and then the other guy played a (Prince) Buster instrumental called “Apache” as if he was gonna scalp me. It didn’t have any lyrics, and even though it was a 1000-pound tune and mine was 50 pounds, my tune won. I met him recently, and he said, “When it happens again, I will beat you.” So yeah, the competitive side is quite fun.

The other one I did—Andrew’s one in Nottingham—was different with no lovers rock, it was just called “Old Hits” and the cut-off was 1981. It had many different rules; you weren’t allowed to play any dubs or specials—a special is where they call the sound system’s name. So if I wanted to go and get one cut, I’d get someone saying, “Lucky Cat is the greatest, she’ll mash up any sound…” That’s the special, and then the dub is when you get the slightly different mix.

Lloyd Parks – “Slaving,” Selford Walker – “Chant Down Babylon.” Two classic roots tunes on the same rhythm, both produced by Tappa Zukie. Selford is misspelled on the label; spelling misnomers are commonplace in reggae. “I played these two back to back in the Tradition clash; they went down very well. Because each round was only 10 minutes long, I did not play the tunes right to the end. I wanted to pack in as many great old hits as possible.”

Dubs are traditionally 10-inch, right? They’re not 7-inch?

Yeah, this ties in nicely. This is a 10-inch on a blank.

What’s a blank? Like a white label?

For me, I love the Jamaican blank, the sound quality is always really good. Also, nobody knows what you’re playing! There’s something nice about the blank. As you can see, it’s got a stamp on it, and often in reggae, they will cut lots of different versions, and it’s all about which version you’ve got and who’s got the most versions.

This is an organ instrumental cut to the Stranger Cole classic, “Bangarang”, [sings] “Woman a wah, bangarang.” I played this in the clash because it has a great intro. So when you play in the clash, there’s one turntable, not two turntables, which is the vintage reggae style, so you’ve got somebody on the mic, and then you turn the records [plays record intro].

Aston “Family Man” Barrett with U Roy – “Orgarang.” This is an organ instrumental piece of the classic “Bangarang” by Lester Sterling and Stranger Cole. “I played this in the Tradition Cup Clash. This is a pre-release—Jamaican blank. If you are in a clash and can answer someone with a rarer tune than the one they just played, you are doing well! I added a small green dot sticker to remind me which side to put on. In the Tradition Clash, we used just one turntable, and no headphones, so putting the right side on was pretty important!”

“Lucky Cat Radio has a bit of everything, it's a magazine-style program, and I'd have interviews. It wasn't a predominantly reggae show; some people just wanted to hear the reggae, some people just wanted to hear about recipes.”

Getting back on track, you became a DJ for your sister’s birthday…

Yeah, and then I thought, “Oh, actually, I quite like this. I’m pretty good at it.” I started to buy more 7-inches, and then I started a night with a couple of friends called “Messy” in Camberwell.

When was this?

Around 2003, I started a few years before my daughter was born in 2006. “Messy” nights were with two guys I went to school with, Will and Navindh, who also DJ’d. We used to take our own equipment there; it was a bit of a schlep. We played in the backroom of the Joiners Arms and had some really funny nights. We did a Chinese New Year party there, where Will and I made like 200 spring rolls.

Wow, and that was all reggae?

It was all reggae, funk, soul—it was a bit of a mix-up, because they’d like to play more funk and soul stuff as well. So I was DJing with them, and a little on my own. Then I got involved in a campaign in Chinatown to save the pagoda, which was going on at the time, and some regeneration stuff.

Anyway, I decided to make a program for Resonance FM about the Chinatown campaign. Then they asked, “Would you like to do a show? Your own show, a regular one?” Instead of just some one-off programs. It was actually Ben Drew, an artist he recommended to me, so big-up to Ben. I asked, “How can I cram all my interests into one show?” I decided on Lucky Cat, which was a chop suey of East Asian and black music, really, American and Jamaican. I also explored my love for Chinese and East Asian culture, films, and food through the show.

Did you use that interest almost like a theme or an angle?

It has a bit of everything, it’s a magazine-style program, and I’d have interviews. It wasn’t a predominantly reggae show; some people just wanted to hear the reggae, some people just wanted to hear about recipes. I started doing that from 2006, before that it was just one-off stuff…

Another thing that influenced me to collect this (Asian) style of music was the films of Wong Kar Wai, who directed my favorite films, In The Mood For Love and Chungking Express. The Chungking Express soundtrack also features some Dennis Brown, reggae, Nat Cole, Connie Francis, Xavier Cugat, and all these Chinese chanteuses.

I grew up totally in love with the golden age of Hollywood and Technicolor, so when I discovered the world of Chinese cinema and its similarities, I really fell in love with it.

Carrie Koo Mei – “Love Without End.” What is known in Hong Kong as an evergreen song. “Love Without End” is from a film of the same name starring Linda Lin Dai. Linda sings it in the movie, but we hear Carrie Koo Mei’s vocals. “I just love this. This makes me cry (if a record makes me cry, I have to buy it, it’s part of my criteria). This is a beautiful love song, and it’s a classic. Every old Chinese lady will know this. Unfortunately, the actress Linda Lin Dai had a tragic end, which makes it all the more emotional. It’s a powerful ballad oozing in sentimentality, a real torch song. The sleeve design is beautiful to me too; the little lanterns and graphics are heavenly.”

Betty Chung – Wild Flame. “Betty is a Chinese singer and actress most famous for starring alongside Bruce Lee in Enter The Dragon. This LP is fabulous, and EMI did some great typography with Chinese characters on the sleeve. The best track for me is a stunning cover of ‘Sunny.’ I would describe this as ‘Asia beat’— it has a funky yé-yé garage sound. Love it!”

“The cinema of Hong Kong never ceases to amaze me—such a prolific output of wonderful films, right up to the ’90s. Most of the stars also made music too. It was a real Hollywood-style star system, but with a Hong Kong twist.”

Rebecca Pan – Sings Pan Wan Ching. “Rebecca’s music was featured in the Wong Kar Wai film In The Mood For Love. It is so desperately romantic and sensuous! I love that film so much, especially its big ‘60s hair, gorgeous cheongsam dresses, and yearning, oh, the yearning! The nicest thing anyone has ever said about my show was that it sounded like, ‘If Wong Kar Wai had a radio show.’ This edition is a Taiwanese bootleg on transparent orange vinyl.”

How do reggae and Asian culture connect?

So, one of my specialist interests is the Chinese reggae pioneers and the influence of the Chinese on reggae music. Bob Marley cut his first record for a Chinese producer in Jamaica called Leslie Kong, who had Beverly’s record label. Unfortunately, Leslie Kong died in 1972 of a heart attack. However, other people from Canton and mainland China had also moved to Jamaica. There was a Chinatown in Kingston, for example. There was a considerable Chinese population in Jamaica. So there’s that big connection, like Justin Yap was a producer of The Skatellites. You’ve got Randy Chin, and his wife, Pat Chin—Miss Pat is still with us, and she manages VP Records, the largest reggae record label in the world.

She no longer lives in Jamaica; a lot of Chinese people moved to America and Canada because there were anti-Chinese riots in Jamaica in the 1970s as a result of the political turmoil of the time and economic difficulties.

Cha Cha and Ranking Joe – One Day You’ll Know. “I became fascinated by the history of the Chinese diaspora in Jamaica and the influence of Chinese producers and musicians on reggae music pretty early on in my record-collecting journey. This 10-inch record is a beautiful culmination of past and present, which crosses continents and pays homage to the two countries’ history. Cha Cha sings in Mandarin with Ranking Joe chatting lyrics in his distinctive patois trill and features the great trombonist Rico Rodriguez. This record kind of brings everything together for me.”

Garnett Silk – “Stalag.” Garnett Silk was an incredible singer heralded as possibly the new Bob Marley. During a gas explosion at his mother’s house, he went in to try and save her but died in the blaze. “This is just one of my favorite rhythms. I bought these from Andrew [Neale], and the two things that come together for me here are the Stalag rhythm and Garnett Silk. He’s got such a beautiful voice, and it is my favorite rhythm.”

So the Chinese had to go to Jamaica to infuse reggae. Reggae didn’t come to China?

There’s a bit of a reggae scene in China. There’s a reggae bar in Chengdu, and I heard some great reggae made in China. There’s a guy called Jiang Lang, whom I follow, who does lots of dubby stuff. It’s more like dub reggae and seems to go well in China and Hong Kong. There’s definitely a little reggae scene there.

Gu Ye Lu – cover of “She Loves You” by The Beatles. “This is a flexi disc I bought in Hong Kong. I went to this guy called Paul Au’s record shop, and I would never have found it on my own. Luckily, these nice academics I’d met online talking about Chinese records took me to Paul’s store. It was in a big tower block, nothing on the door. It was on the 23rd floor or something, and I went in there. It was an absolute treasure trove; it was brilliant. This is one of the records that Paul himself recommended to me.”

Do they toast in Jamaican or in their native language?

In Mandarin. It’s not like Japan, yet, reggae’s massive in Japan. I haven’t been to Japan, but I understand and have heard that reggae is big. Some people in Japan, Rocka Shacka Dub Store, and Far East Records, for example, reissue original Jamaican 45s. I’m unsure how many people have record players in China, so it’s more like roots reggae in the mountains. That’s the impression that I get from China.

Have you been to record shops in China?

I’ve been to China and didn’t find any of them. When the Cultural Revolution happened, you would have found jazz 78s and things from Shanghai. But a lot of that just got trashed in the Revolution. When people leave, they don’t want to take records with them. They’re quite heavy, not really necessary.

Various Chinese 10-inch LPs. The one at the forefront is a Huangmei opera “Liu San Jie” (translates roughly as “Third Daughter of the Liu Family”). The Chinese Record Corporation is a state-run record company started by the Chinese Communist Party when they came into power. “I started collecting CRC 10-inches some years ago. Whilst in Berlin, I was thrilled to find a record shop with a 10-inch section, which I made a beeline for. Sure enough, I found some lovely records. China Record Company records mainly released records on 10-inch. In the background, you can see an educational record teaching you how to speak Mandarin. I used some samples from this on jingles for my Resonance FM radio show.“

Various – Golden Shuttles, Silver Threads Link Us With Peking – Songs. “I picked this up in Berlin, most of these were from Berlin because of the East Germany communist connection. I’m a big fan of communist posters, especially in the ‘50s and ‘60s, and I love that kind of revolutionary artwork and propaganda. I don’t play them that much because the sound is an acquired taste–there’s no bass. The ones that I like musically are the ones with a folk music style to them. Traditional Chinese instruments like the pipa originated in Iran as the oud, and then made it to China via the Silk Road.”

We’re back to the 7-inches now. What have you got there?

Some Chinese and Singaporean records. These are The Stylers from Singapore—they were a big group in the 1960s, and I put this on YouTube. One of them actually commented, saying, “Oh great to see our music still being played.”

Tsin Ting, Long Po – The Love Eterne. The Love Eterne is based on a classic of Chinese literature, The Butterfly Lovers. “These are coloured vinyl, Taiwanese bootlegs I picked up on eBay. I used to go on Malaysian and Hong Kong eBay and kind of just guess things and buy blind, but I knew this film straight away. These are two wonderful actresses, Betty Loh Ti and Ivy Ling Po. It’s a Technicolor feast for the eyes and is filled with yearning and pain. The cinema of Hong Kong never ceases to amaze me, such a prolific output of wonderful films right up to the ‘90s. Most of the stars also made music; it was a real Hollywood-style star system with a Hong Kong twist.”

I’m not seeing many company sleeves; they all seem to be picture or photo sleeves. Was that the standard thing?

Picture sleeves were a big thing. But also bear in mind that I’ve looked for picture sleeves. So yeah, I have got some other ones that are not. There’s a record label called Diamond Records in Hong Kong. They didn’t have many sleeves. They have a Grace Chang 45 called “Oh Calypso.” Grace Chang is a very collectible singer; her records cost a lot.

The story with that one is that it was late one night, I was on eBay and I just sometimes decide to buy things randomly and that’s when I discovered it was actually a song that I’ve been looking for called “Oh Calypso” which is like a Chinese Calypso, so, very pleased with that.

Are you buying these (Chinese and Korean records) more for the visual aesthetic than the music that’s on them?

Yeah, I’m buying these with the visual aesthetic in mind. I love Chinese ideograms. I did learn Mandarin for a little while. I do know some basic characters, numbers, and things. I think it went like this: the Chinese food, the Chinese cinema, and finally the Chinese music.

Can you tell us a bit about the history of your radio show?

I started Lucky Cat in 2005 after I made a couple of one-off programs for resonance on a campaign to save the London Chinatown pagoda. Since then, I have made multiple series of Lucky Cat on Resonance. I moved out of London for a bit and then started getting back into it. So in 2016, I founded a female reggae collective called Sisters of Reggae, and we supported Sister Nancy in Brixton.

I did a little feature about reggae sound systems for one show, and I thought, “I’m going to do a whole series on this.” I’ve done four series of Sound System Stories on Resonance, an oral history of UK reggae sound systems, with interviews with many sound system operators, selectors, and MCs (deejays or toasters).

Sister Nancy – One, Two. Sister Nancy (Ophlin Russell) is known as the first prominent female DJ of Reggae dancehall. In 1996, Nancy left Jamaica for a different life, working as an accountant in a bank in New Jersey and leaving music behind. Sadly, this is a common trajectory for Jamaican female artists. Sister Nancy returned to the music business in 2016 after winning a legal battle to get the rights to her song ‘Bam Bam.’ This meant Nancy could retire from her accountant job and, luckily for all her fans, return to the stage. Nancy continues to tour the world today. “In 2016, Sisters of Reggae supported Sister Nancy in Brixton. We got to meet her backstage, and she signed this LP. She was so lovely and humble, I was so much in awe of her.”

And what does the future hold aside from your radio work?

I disbanded Sisters of Reggae in 2021 and have since enjoyed solo work and collaborating with different DJs and crews. I currently have a quarterly residency at the audiophile bar Spiritland with fellow DJ Jawa Jones, “East Asia Beat.” We are both passionate about East Asian music and promoting and working with other women. Last year, we were so proud to have DJ Honey from the Philippines as our special guest, another phenomenal woman DJ.

I’m a regular DJ at the fantastic Classic Car Boot Sale event in London and enjoy guest spots at various Reggae events in the UK and Europe. I particularly enjoy playing in Italy as the crowds are so excited and passionate about the music. A couple of my friends have valve sound systems; they are the best to play on. I love being invited to select lovely, crackly old rhythm and blues and ska records on these beautiful, warm-sounding sets.

My artwork is becoming more important to me and taking up more of my time; interweaving my passions for music and art is very exciting.

Who would you like to see featured next on Dust & Grooves?

My friend Tiny T The Mighty Cloudburst (Tennyson Goulbourne) in London has an incredible collection, so I’d love to see him featured. I admire the US-based collector Nina Cole; she is a big Hello Kitty fan and so stylish. I would love to see her amazing records. Paul Au, who is from Hong Kong, would be a winner. He is originally from Vietnam, has a massive personal collection of Vietnamese vinyl, and is a record seller.

Phyllis Dillon – “Perfidia” “Phyllis is the queen of rocksteady and didn’t have a long career because she got pissed off after being fucked over by producers in Jamaica. She ended up working in a bank in America. This is a Duke Reid production with a bit of talking on the track, which I love, and apparently, it’s Boris Gardiner. It’s a beautiful song.”

Zoë ‘Lucky Cat’ Baxter is one of the most creative souls in radio, blending her reggae roots with a love for Chinese culture, culminating in many projects like her Lucky Cat radio show and her Revives Galore residency alongside friends Markie Lingwa and Tiny T.

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Raregems

Kaitlin Venneman — Tue, 14 Oct 2025 14:00:33 +0000

Gio & Vale
Raregems

Unusual Unknowns

BY kaitlin venneman

The only thing better than one record collection? Combining two with your equally music-obsessed partner.

The only downside?

“The paranoia that arises when a record gets lost!”

Gio and Vale are longtime friends turned romantic record collectors and DJ duo, most known by the joint name Raregems. The Italian pair curated a radio show called Storie di Digging on Radio Raheem, an online independent radio devoted to deep dives on various artists, podcasts, and plenty of cosmic sounds, where they interviewed fellow diggers to share the “stories that emerged and renewed through vinyl matter.” They also operate an extensive Discogs, complete with a wealth of disco, funk, and soul records fit for any music aficionado in Italy with some euros to spare.

But their true musical purpose lies within their name: an unparalleled devotion to discovering unique, unusual, and magical sounds, “we try not to put boundaries on our collection, driven by curiosity to unearth records from every corner of the planet.”

The journey of each album is an apparent priority in how the pair approach their DJ sets too, “DJing for an audience is just the tip of the iceberg of an experience that starts with building the story, the journey you want to tell…The goal is to spread a piece of our research journey each time that makes people break out and open their minds.” This has led them to performances across Europe, hand-blended vinyl sets with coffee collaborators, and a social media presence that shares their love of the unique records they come across.

Their commitment has paid off—because of their revelations, the pair are able to trace a careful lineage of the sounds that inspire them, from their Italian background to their current obsession with African and Latin beats, being careful to always prioritize the unheard and unknown records. For them, it’s a matter of historical revelation and dedication to finding something new, “our love for the unknown, underrated, and off-the-radar records is a mission…we’re here to give them the spotlight they’ve always deserved. It’s all about uncovering those hidden musical treasures.”

“Music is the common thread in our relationship — it’s with us every moment of the day and brings us even closer.”

—Raregems

What is your first memory involving music?

Vale: It was 1997, and at the time I was living with my mother in Goro, a small town on the Po River Delta. During lunch one day, we were in a village tavern with my mother’s colleagues, and I headed to the cash register. Suddenly, I was in awe of the video playing on the Mivar on the wall—MTV was playing “Around The World,” by the futuristic Daft Punk. I was used to listening to Lucio Dalla, Battisti, or Mina at home so that new sound totally opened my mind. Probably not my first memory of music, but certainly the most vivid and meaningful one.

Gio: I remember as a child, sneaking into my older teenage sister’s room to rummage through her “precious” cassette tapes. I would insert them into my father’s gray Walkman—Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Cranberries, Carmen Consoli. I don’t remember exactly what year it was, but I remember the smell of cigarettes that she snuck with her deskmate.

Lucio Battisti – Anima Latina. “It’s probably his most ambitious, complex, and multifaceted record — a true ’70s fusion of Latin sounds and rhythms with progressive modes of expression. Tracks such as ‘Abbracciala Abbracciali Abbracciati,’ ‘Natural Separation,’ and ‘Anima Latina,’ which gives the album its title, reveal new layers with every listen. Battisti intentionally made some lyrics difficult to understand as a way to make the listener’s role more active.”

How did you two meet? What part has music played in your relationship?

We have known each other for many, many years since our college days, and as friends, we have both always had a passion for music from the first parties we organized together. Music is the common thread in our relationship — it’s with us every moment of the day and brings us even closer.

What does being a record collector mean to you?

For us, being collectors means preserving certain kinds of music and artists for the future. Through our search for forgotten and little-known records, we have the opportunity to safeguard music and connect these artists to the history, traditions, and social culture of their countries. In this way, we see ourselves as archivists.

It’s all about collecting fragments of interwoven stories, each recorded groove is a journey. The idea is not to stop at what we listen to or what the classical media offers us every day, but to go deeper and discover ourselves, our own tastes and attitudes, through searching for records. We believe that the record is the perfect medium to explore distant places and eras while standing still in the same place today. It’s something that is also very much tied to personal characteristics such as insatiable curiosity, a desire to broaden one’s horizons and delve into unique cultures!

What genres do you specialize in, and how did you get into them?

We try not to put boundaries on our collection, instead letting curiosity drive us to unearth records from every corner of the planet. To date, our collection is probably most influenced by the currents of Black music and groove, but it extends far beyond that. We consider ourselves eclectic and curious collectors.

Do you generally find yourself gravitating away from Italian music?

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Italian music represents a starting point, but our approach to digging has no cultural or space-time barriers. So yes, we often find ourselves gravitating away from Italian genres in the direction of pure discovery and research toward new sounds, sub-genres, and distant musical styles. Vinyl is a tool of knowledge for us, an incredible journey across continents and their histories and cultures.

“Through our search for forgotten and little-known records, we have the opportunity to safeguard music and connect these artists to the history, traditions, and social culture of their countries.”

A lot of the records you showed off were Italian library music. What is it about this fusion of music and storytelling that you are drawn to? What led you to collect and research your Italian library?

In Italian library music, there was no compromise and there was little desire to imitate others. A lot of its purpose was to experiment and approach unexplored sounds. The political-social climate of the 1960s, with the student, worker, and feminist struggles, saw the consolidation of the committed songs of the great singer-songwriters. Meanwhile, the library was a transversal phenomenon that more or less clandestinely exploded in those years. It was generic music, intended mainly for huge audio catalogs available to RAI (European television and radio) programmers.

It was probably the non-specific destination that was the driving force behind the expressive freedom of this music scene. It embraced multiple worlds, from the spaghetti soul and funk of Feelings by Stefano Torossi and Desert by Antonio Vuolo and Elio Grande to the lounge revival of albums Polinesia and Continente Nero by Piero Umiliani. Library music even included the electronic and abstract Insight Modulation by Zanagoria, and the easy listening of Alessandroni’s masterpiece, Prisma Sonoro. Those were the library years and they smelled of the future. They were the years of imaginary scenery, landscapes, social problems, and escapism.

The Tropicals – Urubamba. “The Tropicals, Giancarlo Bigozzi (Ginazzi) and Oscar Rocchi (Chiarosi), are a duo with deep jazz roots. Ginazzi, a saxophonist, has collaborated with jazz legends like Giorgio Gaslini and Frank Sinatra, while Chiarosi is a pianist and composer active since the early 1970s. Together, they crafted an experimental jazz-funk album with Afro influences in 1972. We had been searching for this record for a long time, drawn to Italian experimental records that go beyond traditional library music. This album is a prime example of visionary work from that period. One day, to our astonishment, Paolo Scotti, an expert in Italian soundtracks and library records, offered us a mint-condition double copy for a swap. We didn’t hesitate to make the exchange!”

High Resolution – Sweepin’ Off / Liquid Liquid – Optimo. “Unintentionally, we discovered we had two records from 1983 in the same photo. One represents Italy’s Italo disco with a nod to new wave, while the other features the almost obscure no-wave band Liquid Liquid, pioneers of the alternative movements that would dominate the 1980s. New York of that era is a huge inspiration for us—a time of absolute freedom of expression and cross-pollination. There was a real sense of community and sharing, not just among different music genres but across various art forms, like installations, graffiti, and short films.”

What is the most striking thing about the Italian record scene to you?

For us, the Italian discography represents the root of our musical culture, the foundation on which we then built our path of influences and discoveries. If we now love disco made in the US, it’s because we started with disco band Change, produced by the Italian Mauro Malavasi in 1980 between Bologna and New York, it’s because of the productions of the Roman disco-boogie scene that produced “Sweepin’ Off” by High Resolution. If we now look for groove in a record, it is thanks to Pino Presti’s 1st Round and the spaghetti sound; bossanova is because in 1963 the Fonti label produced “Se Io Potessi” by Daniela Casa, or through the Afrobeat on the 1972 album Urubamba by The Tropicals. If we approached a certain type of electronic and new wave, it is thanks to the Italo-disco scene that marked an era and conceived masterpieces such as Gaznevada’s “I.C. Love Affair,” Mr. Flagio’s “Take a Chance,” or Casco’s “Cybernetic Love,” to name a few. These are just a few examples of the multiplicity of sounds that were the starting point for us.

Gaznevada – “I.C. Love Affair”. “While Italo disco’s origins trace back a few years earlier, ‘I.C. Love Affair’ stands as a seminal track in the genre. It holds a place in our top five Italo disco records of all time, not just for its musical composition, but also for its striking cover art. The Chinese lettering and hypnotic imagery transport listeners to the Oriental world, echoing the aesthetics of Japanese city pop and new wave.”

Gaznevada – “I.C. Love Affair”

“The New York of [The 80s] is a huge inspiration for us, a time of absolute freedom of expression and cross-pollination. There was a real sense of community and sharing, not just among different music genres but across various art forms like installations, graffiti, and short films."

Tell us about this Daniela Casa record? Where did you find it

Daniela Casa’s record is an iconic symbol of a golden era in Italian music—a time when genres like easy listening and bossa nova blended effortlessly. We’ve always had a special place in our hearts for bossa nova, a genre that captured an unforgettable moment in time when musicians, singers, composers, and poets all came together to reimagine Brazilian music and culture. Finding this record was more than just a lucky dig, it’s part of the larger web of connections we’re always talking about. It came to us through an exchange with an Italian collector.

Daniela Casa – “Se Io Potessi”. “Daniela Casa, known by her pseudonym Elageron, was an Italian singer and composer who carved out an unconventional path in the music industry. Active primarily between the 1960s and early 1980s, Casa’s career began in Italian pop music before taking a dramatic turn in the 1970s toward electronic, experimental, and psychedelic sounds for radio and television. This single marks the early stage of her artistic journey. It holds a special place in our hearts as it encapsulates a pivotal period in our country’s rebirth during the 1960s—an era characterized by a cosmopolitan, dreamy Italy. Musically, it represents an early fusion of ‘musica leggera’ with bossa nova, showcasing the innovative spirit of the time.”

Daniela Casa – “Se Io Potessi”. “The holiest of the holy grails in our possession. We treat it like our baby.”

Could you tell me more about your radio show, and what you’ve learned in doing it?

Storie di Diggin’ is all about diving deep into the world of vinyl—the connections, memories, experiences, and emotions that come with the hunt and discovery of music on wax. Our vibe is eclectic, adventurous, and always on the lookout for the next hidden gem. Each episode of our radio show is a snapshot of that endless journey through sound.

In the past year, we’ve taken it up a notch, digging into something even more powerful: the human connections that music and vinyl collecting spark. We’ve invited passionate collectors and vinyl enthusiasts to share their personal stories, their deep-rooted love for music, and how the vinyl community has shaped their lives. Our goal is to create an authentic conversation that inspires and connects—celebrating the one-of-a-kind culture of vinyl lovers everywhere.

Os Tincoãs – Self-titled. One of the most captivating Brazilian records of the 1970s, Os Tincoãs channels Afro-Bahian spirituality through rich vocal harmonies and deep, ritual-like rhythms. Each track feels alive—a testament to the culture and faith of the Recôncavo Baiano. We searched for this record for years; it wasn’t easy to find, especially from across the ocean in Italy. Looking at this photo reminds us of that determination—when a record captures our hearts, we’ll chase it anywhere.

In regards to unearthing hidden gems, what is the most surprising or unique record you’ve found in your search?

We really have so many records we could talk about—so many! Since the early years of digging, we’ve been drawn to exploring subgenres of Latin cultures, including Panama, islands like Trinidad, Barbados, and Guadeloupe, as well as Peru, Suriname, Ecuador, Brazil, and sounds from Africa.

For example, from Panama, the single “Socca Salsa” by Grupo Ebony, especially the track “Afrollano,” is a mix of soca, salsa, and disco. There’s also the Guadeloupean Self-titled Ka Lévé, an album that mixes fusion, jazz and Gwo Ka, the Ecuadorian Grupo Deluxe with the track “Quiero,” or disco by Trepidant’s, a Brazilian group that conceived an electronic track entitled “Robot.” From Ivory Coast, there are Révélations 82 by Les Asselards, who conceived a funk and afro-beat disco album while preserving an infinite spirituality…and so on.

Pino Presti Sound – 1st Round. “Pino Presti is a renowned Italian bassist, multi-instrumentalist, arranger, composer, conductor, and record producer, with a significant impact on Italian TV music. He’s celebrated as one of Italy’s foremost arrangers and conductors. Presti pioneered the Fender Jazz Bass in Italy, beginning his career as a singer and bass player. This record is pivotal for us, as it marks the inception of a musical era we’ve extensively researched and devoted a substantial part of our collection to: Italian disco-funk.”

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

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Do you have any favorite stories of digging for a record in the wild? Or is most of your digging done online these days?

We could write a book about our adventures related to digging. We definitely prefer physical digging to online digging, perhaps accompanied by a portable turntable to fully enjoy the search experience without being swayed by the information inherent in the record and instead being captivated or not by the sounds. Undoubtedly, however, online digging has its upsides, like more info on releases, and a wide range of searches by genre, country, and year of release.

Fabio Frizzi – Amore Libero. “The story behind our discovery of this record is, without a doubt, the luckiest digging tale we’ve ever experienced. It was a Sunday in July, and during a bike ride in search of a cool spot in the city, we stumbled upon a parish market. Amidst a scatter of second-hand objects, old photographs, embroidered doilies, and porcelain mugs, we found a pile of records at the back, all covered in dust. They were all classical music, except for one: Amore Libero, an original Cinevox pressing from 1975. What a lucky Sunday!”

Among the many digging stories, the first that comes to mind is during a hot July Sunday in Parma. We were headed to a bookstore when we casually stumbled upon a small parish market, where, nestled in a small wooden box among dusty classical music records, we unearthed two milestones of Italian music: Fabio Frizzi’s Amore Libero, and an Oscar Prudente record.

Another time, we were in Amsterdam looking for consolation from the last-minute cancellation of the Record Planet Fair. We managed to get the garage doors of an acquaintance seller based in Amsterdam to open, and among the dust of the rusty shelves here, our consolation prize popped out: China Burton’s “You Don’t Care (About Our Love).”

Lastly, we were waiting for the train in Salerno to return to Parma when we dropped by the depot of an old acquaintance. There, in the back of his van was a cassette full of dead stock from an old record store. The first: Marcos Valle. The second: Milton Nascimento. And the third: Gal Costa! Bingo!

“Our goal is to create an authentic conversation that inspires and connects—celebrating the one-of-a-kind culture of vinyl lovers everywhere.”

What is it about vinyl? Why do people still collect records while almost all music is available online?

Listening to music on vinyl is a ritual, an act of love, a delicate procedure of carving out an intimate or shared listening moment in a world going at the speed of light, and with a growing disposable music culture. The discussion is not about which medium is better. It’s about the experience attached to it.

What tips do you have for people just starting out as a record collector?

Have an open mind and be open to different genres, listen a lot and don’t be guided by trends or the market value of a record, which can often vary, but by personal taste. And yes, it will be an unforgettable love story.

The discussion is not about which medium is better. It’s about the experience attached to it.

That Silvana Simone record is beautiful. What drew you towards it?

Silvana Simone might be a bit of a hidden gem in the world of Italian music, but her voice is absolutely magnetic. Her debut album Almeno Tentare, released in the ’80s, was followed over a decade later by L’Utopia Ti Cingerà La Vita. Not much is known about Silvana, except that she was a passionate pacifist and activist—but what really drew us in was the raw power and emotion in her voice. And if you haven’t heard the track “Dimensione Ritmo,” you’re missing out. It’s a whole vibe on its own.

Silvana Simone – Almeno Tentare. Debut album by Silvana Simone, a semi-unknown artist from the Italian underground scene of the early 1980s. “‘Dimensione Ritmo’ is, for us, the most captivating track on this LP: enveloping percussion and dreamy rhythms, with Simone’s voice—its irregular high notes propelling us into a new listening dimension.”

What specific sounds, artwork, or conditions do you look for in a record when you are digging?

More than a sound we look for a feeling in the record, a vibe that makes you immediately know that the record will be yours, hard to explain!

Can you try explaining? What kind of magical moments have you had while listening to a record for the first time?

It is precisely in records like those mentioned earlier that we experienced that immediate and unexplainable feeling, a surprise effect that makes you leap from your chair and feel that that record is there waiting for you. Perhaps this feeling also has to do with a personal path that directs us toward certain sounds, or perhaps with memory that unconsciously influences current tastes and choices. Despite what the name Raregems suggests, we are in search of what is defined as rare not because of the value, but because of the emotions that arise from it.

You seem to have a preference for outsiders, from the punk Maria Sole to the absurd Fantasy Rock. What connects you to these unusual records?

Our love for the unknown, underrated, and off-the-radar records is a mission. We’re driven by the thrill of discovering unheard sounds, and piecing together the unwritten history of records that represent lost subcultures. These are the albums that didn’t get the attention they deserved or were simply forgotten over time, and we’re here to give them the spotlight they’ve always deserved. It’s all about uncovering those hidden musical treasures.

Maria Sole – All’amore. “The second album by the artist, pressed by the Archivak label, was probably owned by her and her husband, Armando Stula. Maria Sole is an innovative and controversial figure; she played a key role in inspiring the Italian post-punk and outsider scene. We had been after this cult album for several years and finally found it thanks to dead-stock copies in Milan. We were fascinated by this album from the very first listen.”

Ayx – “Fantasy Rock”. “The soundtrack of the film Rock ‘n’ Roll, one of the many poorly made disco movies, winked at American films such as La Febbre del Sabato Sera. In Italian cities in the late ’70s, there was a real movement around disco music and discotheques, which were essentially an evolution of the earlier Italian balere. ‘Ayx-teca’ remains a fine example of how Italy looked up to America with admiration while still doing things its own way and with character.”

The RIAS Orchestra – Babylon A.M.C.
On a quiet afternoon in Copenhagen’s Reffen neighborhood, after sampling flavors from around the world, we sank into deckchairs by the canal. The gentle murmur of water, the distant hum of the city—and then Babylon A.M.C. – Amram began to play. We fell in love instantly.
This 1978 project by Helmuth Brandenburg and the RIAS Orchestra is a rare gem. Brandenburg, a German composer, arranger, and conductor (1928–2012), led the RIAS Dance Orchestra in the early 1970s and was known for blending orchestral tradition with modern textures. Originally recorded in West Berlin’s RIAS studios as a library or sync project for film and television, it was never meant as a commercial release.
Hearing it there, with the midday light hitting the water, felt like stumbling upon a private soundtrack—ambient, cinematic, and quietly romantic.

Alessandro Alessandroni – Lesbo. A stunning example of Italian library music at its most sensual and cinematic. Blending jazz, lounge, and experimental textures, it captures that unmistakable late-’60s atmosphere—mysterious, elegant, and slightly surreal. Soundtrack records are like trophies for collectors; this album’s beauty speaks entirely for itself.

What is it like sharing your collection with someone?

It is like tending a small garden. Just as in nature, in our “music room,” our ideas and projects are born. But, it can also seed the paranoia that arises when a record gets lost!

Tell us about a memorable record moment you have had together.

Studio 151 in New York City was a memorable night—playing disco in the home of disco and making everyone dance until 4 AM was unforgettable!

I can imagine playing at Studio 151 would be incredible. What’s your favorite part of DJing for an audience?

DJing for an audience is just the tip of the iceberg of an experience that starts with building the story, the journey you want to tell. A unique and ever-changing story that starts from the desire to express the emotion behind the choice of each record.

We always try to push ourselves beyond our comfort zone when we are behind a DJ booth, often offering lesser known records and experimenting with the listener. The goal is to spread a piece of our research journey each time that makes people break out and open their minds. The most beautiful part starts from the construction of the set by imagining the energy and charm that each individual record can exert up until the realization of it on the dancefloor or in the listening room.

Who would you like to see next on Dust & Grooves?

More than who we’d like to see, what excites us is the idea of exploring where we haven’t gone yet. Imagine Dust & Grooves hitting fresh, underexposed territories—Southeast Asia, Korea or Africa—to uncover new, incredible stories about vinyl collecting. Who knows what unheard records are out there waiting to be discovered? That’s the kind of journey we’d love to take next.

Italian DJs and record collectors, Gio and Vale (Raregems) dig for rare and overlooked vinyl from Latin America, Africa, and Italy. Their collection spans disco, funk, Italo-disco, and experimental sounds, preserving music that often falls outside mainstream recognition.

IG

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

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Raregems and 150 other great collectors are featured in the book Dust & Grooves Vol 2: Further Adventures in Record Collecting.

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Kornelia Binicewicz

Natalie Arnon — Fri, 03 Oct 2025 19:33:08 +0000

Kornelia Binicewicz

Ladies on Vinyl

BY Natalie Arnon

On an island near Istanbul, reachable only by ferry, lives a very special storyteller. She is a record collector, an anthropologist, a curator. What might read like the premise for a modern fairytale is, in fact, the story of Kornelia Binicewicz—the woman behind Ladies on Records. Through this project, her DJing, and her curated compilations, Kornelia tells us about the women both at the forefront and in the shadows of the male-led music industry. This is no ordinary record collector—this is a woman on a mission, and we’re here for it.

Kornelia’s Ladies on Records puts the spotlight on Middle Eastern female singers and musicians from the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s. Using the power of colorful covers and irresistible grooves to draw listeners in, Ladies on Records teaches us what these albums truly represent. You might come for the artwork, but you stay for the history—the geopolitical and social realities behind the music. While her focus is often on Turkish and Middle Eastern singers, the juxtaposition of artists from different countries and backgrounds tells a universal story. Woven together, the experiences of immigrant Turkish women in Germany and the history of female Mizrahi singers in Israel remind us of the central role women play in music and culture—and why it’s so important to listen to their voices. In this way, Ladies on Records shows that music doesn’t only have the power to connect people but also to help them better understand themselves and the world around them.

Kornelia’s journeys are not solely audio-visual. Her projects take her across the globe, relying on a network of music lovers and fellow collectors to uncover new music and hidden stories. Her digging expeditions through record stores and private collections lead to deeper dives into everything her finds represent. As she says, each record is an invitation to jump into the rabbit hole. Forever a fan of the analog format, her curatorial work always begins with the physical object—a record, dusty and pre-loved, full of visual and cultural clues.

The interview with Kornelia began with questions about the whats and hows of her record collecting, but quickly turned into a conversation between two women about collecting, storytelling, and finding our place in the world. While music unifies and record collecting brings people together, there is still something distinct about the female experience. This is what Kornelia seeks to capture in her work and in her precise collection—and she does so in a way only a woman can. Ladies on Records is the culmination of her passion for music, digging, and research into the spaces women inhabit in culture and history. Do not be fooled—or rather, let yourself be—by the tunes she spins. This is no ordinary musical journey. It is an immersive educational experience, carried by a very funky retro beat.

“Most of the collectors I have met in my life are men. But there are more and more women, and we are collecting in a different way.”

—Kornelia Binicewicz

First of all, how did you start? Where did your passion for music originally come from?

For me, music is an element of culture, and one of the best ways to communicate with people. Music is like a window into somebody else’s life, history, social position, and personal experiences. I’ve always been interested in music as a tool to connect and to better understand the people around me, as well as those I’m curious about. It’s an invitation to explore more.

Of course, music is, first of all, music—an amazing sonic and emotional experience—but I also treat it intellectually. That’s connected to who I am; by profession and education I’m a cultural anthropologist, so music has been a way for me to understand the constructs of realities. Beyond its emotional element, music is also an intellectual entity that I love to explore.

Was it like that with music from your childhood? Do you go back to it now and look at it differently?

Breakout was my parents’ music for many years—the running joke in my family was that my mother should have married the lead singer, Tadeusz Nalepa. For a long time, this rock-blues band was simply my parents’ music. NOL is their non-blues album and not their most successful, but when I rediscovered it later on my own, I gave their music a new interpretation. Without my parents’ guidance, I had my own revelation about the band. I decoded them in a new way, through my own perspective, and suddenly saw them as a female-led band.

Krystyna Prońko, who was one of the biggest singers in Poland and who we all grew up listening to, and Partita, whom I discovered later, were female musicians at the forefront. Meanwhile, Breakout’s Mira Kubasińska is usually referred to as the singer’s wife. But for me, she is the band’s main attraction—she’s the leader.

Breakout – NOL. “NOL is an acronym for Niezidentyfikowany Obiekt Latający—Unidentified Flying Object—a beautiful trip into Polish music spiced with folk and psychedelia. For decades, Breakout was labeled mainly Tadeusz Nalepa’s blues band. Mira Kubasińska, a female singer, was a member from the beginning, in 1968. It was my parents’ favorite group, so we had all their records at home. My mother was openly in love with the frontman, which was funny to family and friends. But Mira Kubasińska attracted my attention. For me, she was always the natural bandleader—boldly staring at me from the record covers—and her voice took me on the journey of their music.”

Krystyna Prońko – 1980. Krystyna Prońko is a Polish jazz vocalist and composer who started her musical career in the late ’60s. Despite her interest in avant-garde jazz and blues, she explored popular music styles, gaining nationwide recognition.
“I didn’t notice 1980 for years. The last two tracks on the B-side—‘Specjalne Okazje’ and ‘Oto Przyczyna’—mesmerized me, with orchestral groove, synthesizer magic, and sweet melodies sung by a mature and self-aware vocalist. The album proves that Polish music from the ’70s and ’80s has so many jewels.”

When collecting, are you looking for records that help you understand the culture better and explore it, to seek knowledge?

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Yeah, I think that for me, the craving, or the hunger, to understand better is always what’s behind collecting and finding music. I mostly, but not only, focus on the music created and performed by women from all around the world, and I’m trying to tell their stories through the music. I’m not only telling the stories of these singers but stories of women in general, and through this, I’m trying to tell the story of humanity. So, I think that’s the key in finding and buying records and in collecting—I’m trying to create a story that will somehow reveal something to me, that I would be able to share with others.

“If you have the record, you have this intimate time to explore, to dig deeper not only into the music but also into the story of the singer, the musicians, the label, the people who are listening to it.”

Partita – Self titled. Partita was the first Polish female vocal group created for Polskie Radio, the Polish national broadcaster. The band initially focused on classical repertoire, later developing a lighter and more popular style.
“I found the album at a flea market in Poland. It struck me first with its beautiful cover art. It was a lovely surprise to discover that Chopin, Beethoven, and Bach can be cool, groovy, and cinematographic in Partita’s arrangements.”

It’s interesting because as you said music has two levels, the emotional and the intellectual, and the records as a physical entity are like a cultural artifact. They have this double meaning for you.

Totally. Music is never created in a void. It’s a product of somebody’s dreams, and expectations—individual expectations and also societal or communal expectations. I love to discover how individuality is just in between these expectations. To see how the person is either blooming or becoming oppressed sometimes, in a situation that creates some kind of concept. Every genre is a frame, and the individual artist tries to find themselves in this frame. Through discovering a genre you can also understand all the political, historical, and social concepts that go with the music and the culture. There’s always a story behind music, and a record is the best tool to touch the story somehow. If you have the record, you have this intimate time to explore, to dig deeper not only into the music but also into the story of the singer, the musicians, the label, the people who are listening to it. You have it in your hands, and you are invited to jump into the rabbit hole!

How did you get into Lebanese music?

I was into the Middle East stuff and the belly dancing stuff and then I went into the ‘70s fusion of Middle Eastern jazzy sounds, and the Rahbani brothers. If you’re into Eastern sounds you have to visit Lebanese music, which was the mecca of the Middle East in the ‘60s and ‘70s. And then, you cannot avoid meeting singers such as Fairouz. It’s the most recognized and the most beautiful and accomplished music from Lebanon and the Arab World. Fairouz, even though she’s an extremely Lebanese singer, you cannot think of her only as that. She is so recognized and known in every country in the Middle East and the region connected to it.

Fairouz – “Katabna Ouma Katabna”. Two singers united the Arabic world: Oum Kulthum and Fairouz. Fairouz, the Lebanese singer, is considered the most significant living female singer in the Middle East.
“Every Fairouz record is very precious to me. She has been a role model and a heroine for many artists and singers, both worldwide and here in Turkey. I got this single from a great collector and friend of mine, Albi, and it’s become one of my favorite Fairouz recordings.”

Can you talk about the place of arabesk music in your musical and cultural quests?

“I knew a lot of Lebanese and Mizrahi music before I arrived in Turkey. I was more into Middle Eastern sounds, and I understood that this element is very strong here as well. You can’t avoid arabesk if you come to Turkey—it’s one of the most popular styles, as beloved as it is hated. It’s incorporated into so much music, a combination of many styles and geographical influences. The basic element in Turkish music is the classic Türk Sanat, but that itself contains influences from Arabic music, especially Egypt and Lebanon, as well as elements from Western music—a true fusion of Turkish culture’s ingredients.”

Salwa – Self-titled. “Salwa Al Katrib was primarily recognized for her acting career. She started her musical path in her early twenties and recorded until the 2000s. Salwa’s voice resembles Fairouz, the biggest diva of Lebanese music. I bought this record while visiting and digging in Tunisia in 2019. The record seller had kept it for me, hoping I would come back and appreciate the album. He looked at me and whispered, ‘I know this is your taste! Listen to Salwa!’ He was right! The album producers marked the best two tracks on the back cover with a pink star. Even though more than forty years have passed, those marked songs are still the best.”

Esmeray – “Yollar Yollar / Lanet”. An excellent representation of Turkish psychedelic rock implemented into the sound of Arabesk and folk. Her musical style was unique; it’s impossible to compare her deep voice with any other Turkish musician. Esmeray is just one of a kind. Since the beginning of my journey into Turkish music, she has been my most loved artist because of her wonderful voice, but also her touching on unspoken issues of racism and prejudice towards Black people in Turkey.”

Kamuran Akkor – “Dilo Dilo Yaylalar / Falcı”. “Kamuran Akkor is a female Turkish singer who started her career in 1970 and worked with Turkey’s best arrangers and instrumentalists. She was widely known as an Arabesk performer, but her recordings from the 1970s have a strong psychedelic sound. I had the chance to meet her and learn about the inspirations and influences in her music. Her interpretations of Turkish folk songs were brave and progressive, expanding our understanding of psychedelic music from Anatolia.”

“You can’t avoid arabesk if you come to Turkey—it’s one of the most popular styles, as beloved as it is hated.”

How do you collect? Do you go by it methodically, do you just go to the record store and see whatever they have, or do you do both?

I think both; on one hand, I make an eclectic selection if I go and search for records, but on the other, what usually guides me is that I know I want to find records that were created and performed by women. This is the only light that never turns off in my head. But in terms of genres and aesthetics, I’m very open, so at the end of the day I come home with very eclectic music. For many years now, my research and work as a DJ, collector, and storyteller, has been focused on discovering and presenting the music created by women, so this is usually what I select. When I travel around the world or even when I go to the corner shop here in Istanbul, I first search for women in music. And then, I’m always also interested in music in general, so I come back with music that is possibly not related to women’s creativity in music.

I understand that women who have been involved in music, even if they were sometimes not so visible in the production of these records, were still somewhere in there. So somehow, I’m buying all the records that are created by men and women, and I don’t exclude men from my selections. But I have a focus and I want to understand the women’s stories because I think that their stories have not been told, the attention that was given to them was somehow not on whatever they were trying to tell us. Society was mostly focused on seeing them as kind of objects in the music industry, rather than creators. And very often we are not seeing them. I try to approach them in a new way, a humane way of trying to understand their lives, and their connections and positions, their interactions with society and politics. So this is what it comes down to in the end. Ladies on Records is about revealing some kind of story of women involved in music.

This makes the record not only what it is physically, but also something that encapsulates everything that it represents, everything that’s behind it.

Absolutely, nothing is what it is. The famous “This Is Not a Pipe”—it’s never a pipe! I’m not fetishizing records. I love them because they represent lots of things. I love them because they invite me into their universe. I love them because they are beautiful entities, a beautiful reality, but there is so much behind them. The fact is that I can hold them in my hands and it’s just the beginning of a story. I think that in vinyl you can have this very private moment of exploring music, something that has been lost. People consume digital music and they can’t connect the cover art with it, they don’t know who made the cover, who the band is, you know? It’s all disappearing. When you have a record you cannot omit any of this information, it’s just you and this. It’s a very analog and visible connection to the universe.

Neşe Alkan – Tut Kalbimi Tut. Neşe Alkan is a female Turkish singer who started her career in the 1970s, then disappeared from show business in the 1980s, just after Tut Kalbimi Tut.
“While I was working on Turkish Ladies, I came across Neşe’s album, with its beautiful disco-style cover art. At the time, I knew her folk-pop songs, such as Dilo Dilo Yaylalar and Kaçma Güzel from 1975.”

Turkish Ladies – Female Singers from Turkey 1974–1988. “This compilation was released on Sony Music Turkey but contained music owned by three Turkish labels: Elenor, Türkuola, and Şah Plak—each specializing in different music and styles. The creative process of the compilation was a beautiful journey. I was happily digging in the labels’ archives, meeting artists, and exploring their stories. Studying the labels’ catalogs allowed me to show a broad spectrum of Turkish music performed and created by women in the ’70s and ’80s. The cover girl of the album is Huri Sapan; her stories helped me understand the complexities of being a woman in the Turkish music business.”

You use your collecting and curating to tell a story, can you talk about how your Turkish Ladies compilation happened? Was it an easy pitch?

After I made a psychedelic mix album, I actually thought I’d go another way, maybe somewhere else. But then Sony Turkey reached out and suggested I look through their catalogs and do something. I knew exactly what I wanted to do—to reflect on the music of Turkish women. I always wanted to make a compilation like this. They were very happy with the suggestion and appreciated the perspective, there’s no other compilation out there that is dedicated to Turkish women. Sony gladly opened their back catalogs and the catalogs of the labels they represented and let me dig. It took a year for the album to be completed, but in the end it was out and I was happy I could give something to Turkish cultural reality.

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Does your curating and storytelling also come across when you DJ?

Absolutely. I mean, in DJing it’s not that easy to tell a story. On the dance floor, there’s only one objective: you have to make people dance! So sometimes telling the story is not that important. However, I’m still trying to do that even in my DJ sets and somehow still tell the story. I’m not a Collector, you know, in the sense that I don’t have a wall of records. But the records that I own, the records that I collect and buy, they are voices in a story. They are a part of my story-building. I think that with my records, I curate a story.

Neşe Alkan – Tut Kalbimi Tut. “Neşe Alkan brought the album ready to her label, Elenor, and took absolute control over the production process, insisting it be released on colored vinyl. The amber vinyl matches beautifully with the cover art. According to Elenor’s owner, it was the first colored vinyl pressed in Turkey. Neşe was known for her brave stage costumes and her positive attitude toward her own body. She was proud, charming, and mesmerizing, despite the harmful expectations for female artists to be slimmer.”

Do you find that people, mostly other record collectors, look at you differently because you’re a woman in this field?

Well, no… I mean, for a long time the women who were collecting records were invisible, and now we have much more space to exist. This is due to the fact that we can communicate more easily. I think it’s an anachronistic old-fashioned belief that there is an issue. The older I am, the more I think that gender is really just a construct, we’re finally getting out of what we define as male or female.

“Most of the collectors I have met in my life are men. But there are more and more women, and we are collecting in a different way.”

I was recently thinking how in twenty years we will be an absolutely different society, most probably, and my Ladies on Records will be so anachronistic and so old-fashioned that everybody would say it’s not politically correct. And I thought ok, it would be like a museum object that shows how we, women, were forced at some point to state our gender identity. In fifty years maybe this gender-fluid reality will be so positively overwhelming that we will not have to state it anymore. But we’re still not there, we still have to say, OK, I am a woman, and I have not been able to do many things and now I want to talk. Now it’s time to tell the story that hasn’t been told.

Most of the collectors I have met in my life are men. But there are more and more women, and we are collecting in a different way, which is really interesting. Very often I think that I might also be kind of a representative of this sort of feminine collecting. I think women collect more with purpose, rather than the fact of fetishizing the vinyl. Men are very eager to fetishize the concept of collecting, while women very often have an agenda, a program, behind it. We do something to say something. I think that’s the difference, and there’s no competition between male and female collectors. The men are collecting just for collecting, and women are collecting to tell a story. I think this is a very complementary situation, having both ways of exploring and collecting. I never had any bad experiences with male collectors, on the contrary. I think they’re very happy to be finally dealing with women, and with that, there’s a different approach, different way of communication, different choices.

I think, as you said, it’s opening up and there are more women in this field, and I think there’s some kind of fetishization of women collectors as well. Like record stores or books about vinyl will always have a pretty girl looking through records.

Ah, that’s true. But I think it will pass. It still happens a lot, and we also have women falling into this trap and acting according to the expectations. That’s ok, I believe in pluralism in polyphonic surroundings. But I know that lots of men are eroticizing collectors, right? This should change because it’s incorrect, but I think that women should also help in this process, stop being objectified. But it’s a trap, we all live in the reality where the main concept is beauty so it’s very confusing how to act, who shall we be. Sometimes I don’t know who I should be, more beautiful or more clever. What is more desired?

And it’s like this catch-22 where you feel you can’t have both.

Because I deal with women’s music, I feel that I don’t have to be that beautiful anymore. They’ve done their job, you know? They were so objectified. And I play with it because I show the covers, I show how they acted, but then I dive in and I tell the story of their lives or how they worked on this album and what they came across. And you cannot look at them anymore as the cover girl. You have to look at this woman as a human. You have to look at her and her life story, and the universal story of other women too.

I have male friends who are collectors, and I don’t see a lot of women in my social circles who call themselves collectors. Maybe it’s changing with the younger generation, but I do agree, and I also read this in some places, that women find it easier to identify as collectors if they have a focus if they curate a certain style. Men are less so.

I do believe it’s like that. Women are always on a mission, you know? “What shall we do? How can we improve the situation?” It can be records, it can be whatever. So very often we have an agenda. Men very often follow competitiveness, they are more focused on building something for the sake of building. Us, I think it’s more about our expectations. I mean, now we are generalizing because I also know women who are into really huge collections and they just collect because they like something particular, and it’s only musical. But I think we get encouraged into collecting because we understand that in the music there is also something else. That it’s not only about the object.

Who are the Turkish female singers most featured in your collection?

Ah, so many! Selda, Kamuran Akkor, Esmeray, Tülay Özer, Hümeyra, Ajda Pekkan and her sister Samiramis, Neşe Karaböcek and her sister, I have most of their stuff.

Tülay Özer – Tülay. “Tülay is the sister of famous pop singer Zerrin Özer, and one of the hidden treasures of Turkish psychedelic folk-rock. She recorded a few albums and singles with Esin Engin, the most forward-thinking musician and arranger of 1970s Turkey. Released as a 10-inch in 1977, it remains one of the most precious jewels in my collection of Turkish music. All of Tülay’s ‘70s singles on the Kent label are great.”

Selda – “Nem Kaldı / Rabbim Ne İdim Ne Oldu”. “Selda Bağcan is the most recognized Turkish female artist of the Anatolian rock genre. She collaborated with the most progressive bands and musicians of Turkish music in the ‘70s. Her musical style is deeply rooted in Turkish folk and the tradition of aşık music. She has always stuck to her Leftist beliefs, singing about social injustices and oppression. Nem Kaldı / Rabbim Ne İdim Ne Oldum was recorded with Kardeşler in 1976 and is undoubtedly the best example of Selda’s style. Every album and single of hers has a special place in my collection.”

Hümeyra – “Onu Bana Sakla / Sus Duyması”. “One of my favorite Hümeyra singles. While the B-side, Sus Duymasın, is a beautiful ballad in the typical Hümeyra style, the A-side delivers a fantastic disco-ish halay (a folk tune from southeastern Turkey).”

Ajda Pekkan encapsulated the history of Turkish music in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Her career is like the encyclopedia of Turkish popular music. She worked with female lyricists and was always at the center of what was current. She’s now almost eighty years old and looks younger than me, she still performs.

Ajda Pekkan – Süper Star. “Ajda Pekkan was a natural-born star. Her music career is essentially the history of Turkish popular music. She always followed the hip styles and was very successful in the early years of her journey. My favorite track, ‘Baksana Talihe’, is Ajda’s cover of Kai Warner Oriental Express’s ‘Fly Butterfly,’ also known as ‘Kavir-E-Dell’ by Iranian singer Marjan. Ajda first recorded the song in French as ‘Viens Dans Ma Vie.’”

Ajda Pekkan – Süper Star gatefold.

Turkish singers being also actresses was a common concept in the ‘70s and ‘80s when cinema and music were interconnected. People would go out to see a movie, and the female character would do a song, and the next day they all wanted to buy it. So the record companies pressed many copies of these singles, and they were a hit. From that starting point, they also had their own careers in music.

Nazan Şoray – Dünyanın Sekizinci Harikası. “Nazan Şoray was the younger sister of Turkey’s most famous actress, Türkan Şoray, and like her, she began her career as an actress. In the ‘80s, Nazan focused on music and gained popularity with a cover of Barış Manço’s ‘Hal Hal.’ Dünyanın Sekizinci Harikası was her second LP. I love Nazan’s voice—it’s sweet and very melodic. Her interpretations of Turkish folk songs are distinctly feminine. Excellent arrangements, early-1980s Moog, and synthesizers place this album between easy-pop and psychedelic Anatolian music. My favorite track is ‘Hatuney.’”

Where do you get your music from? Do you buy online, or do you go crate-digging? When you travel, how do you know which record stores and collectors to approach?

I buy records only from record stores and places where I can find records in the physical way. I never buy online, or I can count on two hands the records that I bought online. I always go and buy, and for that, I need to travel; I need to go to the record store, sometimes to collectors’ houses for exchanges. This is my way. I don’t do Discogs at all.

I’ve lived in Istanbul for six years, and when I arrived I immersed myself in digging. For one month I was only digging, and just talking to people—who has what? And then somebody told me “Ah, that guy has a collection at home, go there” and so on, so that’s how I did it. When I was in Columbia I did exactly the same thing, I knew one person, and then that person knew another. There were actually no record stores in those days, or I couldn’t find the ones that I was really interested in. I was mostly into cumbia and chicha, so I just talked to people and took cabs to some weird neighborhoods and into people’s houses, with their children and wives and everything! I enter the house and the guy puts all his records on his bed and says “these are for exchange”, and you are diving, you are touching. I’m not buying the records online, I have to see them, to listen to them. Because for me it’s a personal history, I buy only in the normal way as our grandparents did.

Do you keep in touch with all these sellers and collectors you were dealing with? Are you also interested in the stories of how they came to have these albums?

Yes, we leave a trace on the record so the story of someone who owns it is always very interesting. We also talk about this stuff. How did you come to have it, what does it mean to you, why are you exchanging it, why don’t you want it? It’s very interesting how people are getting rid of some records at some point, or how their aesthetics have changed and what they do with these records. For me, I very seldom exchange my records now, I feel very connected to them. I keep them, but if I have double copies, or I buy one and then get another copy, usually that’s what I exchange. Other than that, every record that I have is exactly the record that I want.

That’s a very hard thing to achieve.

It doesn’t mean that I have all the records that I want.

But everything you have is there for a reason.

If it’s there that means it’s important. Or it was, and maybe it will be important again. They are my treasures, I really connect to their stories and I always come back to them. For example, my biggest collection is of Turkish music, and the records I bought like six or seven years ago, now they are not so important to me anymore. But after I while I find them extremely interesting, for instance, the B-side of a single is a total killer and I would kill myself if this killer was not with me because then I couldn’t tell the story I am about to tell right now.

“A wish list is very good for Discogs. But if you go digging, you’re coming back with a record that you never heard of.”

Ahuva Ozeri – Heichan Hachayal. “Ahuva Ozeri, an artist of Yemenite origin, was the sound of multicultural Tel Aviv. She was a pioneer of ‘world music’ long before critics coined the term. She was also a voice of the Mizrahi community that settled in Kerem HaTeimanim. Ozeri was a master of the bulbul tarang (an Indian instrument) and a spectacular singer. This 1975 release introduced a vivid and polyphonic culture of Yemenite origins into Israeli mainstream music. Tel Aviv diggers Ofer Tal and Uri Wertheim introduced me to the album. Since then, Heichan Hachayal has been one of my favorite and most-listened-to albums.”

Do record collectors, who know what you might want, reach out to you and say, “Look, I have this collection that maybe you should check out?”

People usually know that I live here and I very eagerly help them find records in Istanbul, so whenever anyone I know, even online, comes to Istanbul—I always come and help them dig. This is my contribution to their collection. I ask them what they’re interested in, and then we go digging. We’re exploring music together. I’ve done this so many times here—artists, musicians, my favorite bands coming to Istanbul. For instance, I did this with my favorite band, Khruangbin, they came here and I took them to all the record stores and we bought records together; or the Italian band Nu Guinea.

So, I do this for friends and musicians and it comes back to me because everywhere I go, I always have somebody who does exactly the same for me. Showing me the best places, meeting with me in the best stores. This is a network of people who are interested in vinyl and in digging. I might be more into digging than collecting. The experience of digging unifies people. Whenever we travel, we find ourselves in a new place, there’s a network of people who are willing to meet you and show you this amazing world of local music exploration. It’s always an exchange.

Does this network help you explore music from other regions?

Of course! Those people are the insiders, they have that insider perspective and know the culture back and forth, and it’s very important to recognize their influences on our tastes. I’m very keen to pay attention and learn from them, they are the tour guides and are sharing the stories with you so then it’s up to you to follow. When I go abroad to DJ I always try to find records, I always combine record collecting and DJing, it’s the best opportunity. In Tunisia, I was doing a couple of DJ gigs and there I connected with local people who know about Tunisian music, more than I do. Very often they know everything and I know nothing! And it’s really fantastic to meet these guides.

Nasiba Abdullayeva & the Samarkand Instrumental Ensemble – Self-titled. “Uzbekistan’s capital, Samarkand, is a melting pot of cultures and languages. Nasiba Abdullayeva, an Uzbek female singer of Jewish origin, started her career under the Soviet regime in the ’80s. State control over culture, society, and music suppressed freedom of expression and individualism, but favored folk music and invested in traditional music ensembles. A fusion of tradition, modern interpretations of maqams, synthesizers, and Nasiba’s hypnotic vocals make this album a pure treasure. It would not be in my collection if not for Tayfun from Deform Record Store, who generously shared one of the album copies with me.”

Can you talk more about digging—do you enjoy the hunt more than actually getting the album?

If I dig, it means I usually come back with records. But digging is an experience, like diving into a new reality. You have to have your eyes and ears open and leave your prejudices behind. To be a digger, you have to be extremely open to music and to people. You can’t just have a precise wish list; a wish list is very good for Discogs. But if you go digging, you’re coming back with a record that you never heard of. You’re letting yourself be surprised, you come back with a new definition of something. So you find records that are, for example, not very expensive but appear to be treasured. You find albums by extremely popular singers or bands, but that nobody knows of. It’s a very nourishing experience, these are the seeds to dig more into the stories, build up the history, explore more, develop something, and then bring it to somebody else.

Like the physical digging leads you to do an intellectual digging, in a way.

Yeah, and it’s also connected with traveling, being immersed in a new reality. This is something that was really missing in the last two years. It feels like forever! For one year, I haven’t bought one record because I live on an island and everything was closed, even the post wouldn’t come at some point. I usually don’t order, but I felt that this was the time for me to start ordering online. But when I started to order, the records didn’t arrive because I was really separated from everything. So, for one year I couldn’t buy any records. It was really hard for me.

I remember one experience, at the beginning of the pandemic. I live in a part of Istanbul where there is just a ferry between the city and me, and we were closed. Nobody could come to the island and nobody could leave. A friend of mine, Tayfun from my favorite record store in Istanbul, called me and I said “I really need a record, I want to listen to something new, I’m begging you”. He answered, “Listen, I will be taking a ferry from the city which will pass by your island, but I can’t step out of it because I don’t have a residency permit”. I said that I would come to the Ferry station. And the ferry stopped, he was there and he gave me the record—he was on the ferry and I was on the land! He said, “I miss you Kornelia”, I said, “I miss you so much and I’m so happy that you gave me this record”. It was the first record I bought for a couple of months. I remember walking along the coast and crying. This record symbolized the life that I used to have before. We couldn’t even shake hands, he just handed me the record. Then I realized, wow, records are extremely important to me.

It’s a beautiful story.

It was! And the sun was so amazing, everything was like… If I ever make a movie, this would be one of the scenes. Everything was perfect. Everything was so dramatic. He was masked, I was masked, we were wearing gloves! I think I even wore sunglasses so the virus wouldn’t come through my eyes. And we weren’t touching each other, we were connecting through a record. I waved to him, and I walked along the coast for twenty minutes, crying like a baby, in the golden sunset.

Who would you like to see featured next in Dust & Grooves?

I would like to see my Polish friends featured, the digging collective Soul Service. They dig in Polish funk and Polish music from the ‘70s and ‘80s. They are collectors and wonderful DJs who also release music and make compilations. They’re great people and really understand something special about the music they’re digging into.

This interview took place in 2022. Kornelia is now back in Istanbul.

Kornelia Binicewicz is a record collector, curator, and cultural anthropologist living in Istanbul. She is the founder of Ladies on Records, a project that highlights female singers from Turkey and the Middle East from the ’60s to the ’80s. Through her DJing, compilations, and archival research, Kornelia uncovers overlooked music and tells the stories of women in male-dominated music scenes.

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Dear Dust & Groovers,

Thank you for being part of this incredible journey.

Groove on,
Eilon Paz and the Dust & Grooves team

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Dust & Grooves at Spinnafest 2025

Eilon — Sun, 14 Sep 2025 08:07:34 +0000

Dust & Grooves is honored to take part in Spinnafest, a three-day celebration curated by the legendary DJ Spinna.

On Saturday, September 27, join us for a special conversation with DJ Spinna, hosted by Andrew Mason (a.k.a. Monk-One) and Eilon Paz, founder of Dust & Grooves.

Together, we’ll revisit Spinna’s 2017 Dust & Grooves interview and dive deeper into some of the most influential records in his collection. Expect stories behind the vinyl, personal insights, and a celebration of the music that shaped his journey.

Tickets

Saturday – September 27 – 6:30 PM

The SpinnaVerse. Brooklyn, NY

The post Dust & Grooves at Spinnafest 2025 appeared first on Dust & Grooves. Vinyl Collection Books.

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Louise Chen

Louise Chen

House in the Home

BY Fiona MacPherson-Amador

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Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

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Platurn

PLATURN

45 Is The Magic Number

BY Sam Cohen

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Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

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Five Records: A Music Exploration Series with The Gaslamp Killer

Dust & Grooves and Only The Wild Ones Present:

Five Records — A Music Exploration Series with The Gaslamp Killer

Vol. 2: Eastern Grooves — Turkish, Arabic, and International Beats

Vol. 3: Psych & Prog Rock

Vol. 4: Trip-Hop

Kevin Cole

KEVIN COLE

A Relentless Quest

BY DAN EPSTEIN

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Who would you like to see next on Dust & Grooves?

You’ve already featured fellow KEXP DJ Supreme La Rock, whose Sunday Soul show blows me away weekly with rare old-school soul and funk jams. A deeper dive into artist and DJ Nabihah Iqbal’s record collection, featured in Dust & Grooves Vol.2 would be cool.

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Ro Wyldeflower Contreras

RO 'WYLDEFLOWER' CONTRERAS

Lovely to Possess. Cooler to Play

BY NATE LEBLANC

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Charlie Dark

CHARLIE DARK

Peace, Positivity, and Blessings

BY Dom Servini

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Zoë ‘Lucky Cat’ Baxter

Zoë 'Lucky Cat' Baxter

A Cultural Sound Clash

BY Kevin Foakes

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Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

Zoë ‘Lucky Cat’ Baxter is one of the most creative souls in radio, blending her reggae roots with a love for Chinese culture, culminating in many projects like her Lucky Cat radio show and her Revives Galore residency alongside friends Markie Lingwa and Tiny T.

Further Adventures in Record Collecting

Dust & Grooves Vol. 2

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Raregems

Gio & Vale Raregems

Unusual Unknowns

BY kaitlin venneman

Gio & Vale
Raregems